THE MODERN 



BRITISH PLUTARCH 



LIVES OF MEN 



DISTINGUISHED IN 



THE RECENT HISTORY OF ENGLAND 



FOR THEIB 

TALENTS, VIBTDES, OR ACHIEVEMENT! 



W. C. TAYLOR, LL.D., 

OF TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN, 

AUTHOR OF " A MANUAL OF ANCIENT AND MODERN HISTORY," 

ETC., ETC. 



NEW YOR K.- 
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
82 CLIFF STREET. 

184 6. 



*ts- 






PREFACE. 



When the plan of this work was proposed to 
the Author by the Publishers, he felt that it was 
likely to supply a deficiency which he had him- 
self experienced. Intelligent young persons hear 
names, " familiar as household words" to their 
parents, but of which they themselves know 
nothing ; for we all have a habit of speaking of 
the events with which we were cotemporary, or 
nearly so, as if they had the same notoriety for the 
young that they have for the old. This was the 
case with a beloved and affectionate child, whose 
inquiring mind led him frequently to ask for some 
particulars about the eminent men whose names 
he heard in the course of casual conversation. He 
felt a deep interest in the progress of the work ; 
but it pleased Providence to remove him to another 
and a better world, before the volume was com- 
pleted. It is sometimes forgotten that the eminent 
men who have departed from the stage of life 
within our memory, though they cease not to be 
cotemporaries for us, have become historical per- 
sonages for our children, and that they require to 
be informed of all that we remember. Impressed 
with these views, the Author was induced to select 
the biographies of such men in the past and passing 
generation, as appeared to have had most influ- 
ence in moulding the opinions and shaping^ the 
destinies of the British people. 



)V PREFACE. 

The limited space assigned to each biography 
compelled the Compiler to select only the most 
salient traits of character, and to dwell only on 
such events as had a public and historical impor- 
tance. In describing the career of statesmen, he 
has been careful to abstain from any manifestation 
of political bias or party feeling, and has therefore 
avoided giving any opinion on questions that yet 
remain w^ithin the arena of controversy. He has 
been more anxious to set forth facts as a narrator, 
than to set himself up as a dictator to the judg- 
ment, or even a guide to opinion. 

The list of the biographies will itself explain the 
principle on which the selection has been made. 
It is probable that some may complain of omis- 
sions, and others object to insertions; but some 
exercise of choice was rendered absolutely neces- 
sary by restricted limits, and it is hoped that the 
selection will be found, as a whole, sufficiently 
varied to amuse, and sufficiently comprehensive 
to instruct. It was not the Author's original in- 
tention to have given his name to the work ; but 
on reflection, he was led to believe, that an anony- 
mous biography is neither fair to the dead nor 
satisfactory to the living. In the distribution of 
praise and blame, it is only justice that the evi- 
dence on which the decision is pronounced should 
be duly authenticated. 

Camden Town, 

March, 1846. 



CONTENTS. 



Richard Arkwright 


Page 
. . 1 


Warren Hastings . . 


Page 
. 193 


Edmund Burke 


. . 8 


Bishop Heber . . . 


. 205 


Robert Bums . 


. . 21 


John How^ard . . . 


. 211 


Lord Byron . . 


. . 28 


Dr. Jenner .... 


. 217 


George Canning 


. . 41 


Sir William Jones . . 


. 222 


Earl of Chatham 


. . 56 


Sir James Mackintosh 


. 229 


Dr. Adam Clarke 


. . 71 


Rev. Henry Martyn, B.D 


237 


LordClive . . 


. . 76 


Sir John Moore, K.B. 


242 


Captflin Cook . 


. . 89 


Lord Nelson . . . 


. 255 


William Cowper 


. . 100 


William Pitt . . . 


. 269 


Rev. George Crabb 


e . .107 


Sir Samuel Romilly . 


. 279 


Sir Humphrey Da^ 


rj. . 112 


Sir Walter Scott . . 


. 287 


Lord Eldon . . 


. . 118 


Richard Brinsley Sheridan 296 


Lord Erskine . . 


. . 128 


John Smeaton . . . 


. 309 


Charles James Fox 


. . 136 


James Watt .... 


315 


Benjamin Franklin 


. . 152 


Marquis of Wellesley 


324 


Oliver Goldsmith . 


. . 163 


William Wilberforce . 


. 333 


Hemy Grattan . 


. . 171 


Sir David Wilkie . . 


338 


Earl Grey . . 


. . 182 


Duke of Wellington . 


347 



THE 



MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 



RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 

The history of the cotton manufacture in England is 
without a parallel in the annals of mankind. Less than 
a century has elapsed since it was almost unknown as a 
branch of British industry ; it is now the most important, 
both in extent and value, whether Ave regard the wealth 
which it brings to the country, the prosperity to which 
it has raised the manufacturers, or the profitable employ- 
ment which it yields to half a million of operatives. The 
rise and progress of this great source of national wealth 
is associated with no high or lofty names ; the chief 
leader in the improvements of the cotton manufacture 
was a humble barber, in the town of Bolton. Little is 
known of Arkwright's early career; he was born in 
1736, and at a very early age commenced business as a 
village barber. Local traditions describe him as veiy 
shy and reserved, mixing little with his neighbors, and 
devoting his leisure time to chemical and mechanical 
experiments. He discovered some process for dyeing 
hair, which was probably of some value at a time when 
wigs were generally worn ; but he was inattentive to 
his business, proverbial for his want of punctuality, and 
downright rude to those who complained of being disap- 
pointed. As his business declined he devoted himself 
more sedulously to mechanical pursuits : he hoped to 
1 A 



2 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

be able to discover perpetual motion, a folly which he 
shared with the most eminent mechanists of his day. 
We have no certain account of the circmu stances which 
induced him to direct his attention to the cotton manu- 
facture ; but after a careful examination of the many 
statements which have been given to the public, we 
believe that the following narrative will be found most 
consistent both with probabilities and authenticated 
facts. 

In the histoiy of invention, the art of weaving takes 
precedence of the art of spinning ; and, as this is a 
point curious in itself as well as one illustrative of our 
subject, we shall quote what we have elsewhere given 
as the process of invention in the earlier stages of so- 
ciety : — 

" An obvious improvement on the garment of leaves, 
and one very likely to be suggested by the process of 
twisting the leaf-stems, would be the interlacing of strips 
of bark, or ribbon-shaped leaves, in the form of a mat. 
Communities still exist in the Pacific Ocean and the 
interior of Africa, with whom invention has yet gone no 
further than the preparation of matting from strips of 
bark, straw, and rashes. These are manufactured in a 
horizontal loom, not very unlike that used by the an- 
cient Egyptians, representations of which, copied from 
the monuments, are found in every collection of Egyp- 
tian antiquities. It could not have escaped the notice of 
the mat-weavers, that their work was rendered more 
flexible and agi'eeable to the wearers by the use of finer 
fibre, and trials would, in all likelihood, be made with 
the fibres of various plants, particularly those of the hemp 
and flax tribes. Experience must soon have shown, 
that the fibres were strengthened by being twisted to- 
gether, and thus the art of weaving, by a series of pro- 
cesses not very difficult to be traced, became the parent 
of the art of spinning." 

A little before Ark^vi'ight began to pay attention to 
the processes of spinning, the invention of the fly-shut-^ 
tie had given an extraordinary impulse to weaving ; the 
spinners of that day were unable to supply the increas- 
ing demand for yarn. AVe have conversed with very 
old persons who remembered when the wf^avevs, or their 



RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 3 

factors, traveled about from cottage to cottage with their 
pack-horses, to collect yarn from the spinsters, often 
paying a most extravagant price for it, which absorbed 
the profits of weaving. To procm-e an adequate supply 
of yarn was therefore an object of primary importance 
to the manvifacturers of Lancashire ; and the inventive 
faculties of English mechanists were exercised to dis- 
cover some mechanical means of facilitating the process 
of spinning. In order to comprehend the utility of the 
invention to which Arkwright has given his name, it is 
necessary to have some notion of what was required to 
be done. If we take up a lock of raw cotton wool, we 
shall find the fibres twisted and curled about in every 
direction ; but if we gently pull to pieces, longitudinally, 
a bit of yarn, we shall find that the fibres are laid side 
by side, without any one of them being bent or doubled, 
and that they are only so much twisted as to keep them 
together. The gi'eat point of difficulty was to get the 
fibres perfectly parallel, and this was partially effected 
by the process of carding ; but whenever the teeth of 
the cards caught fibres by the middle they doubled them 
up, and the only remedy for this evil was drawing out 
the cotton into a thread, by the finger and thumb, when 
the distafif was used, and afterwards by the long whee) 
and spindle. The cotton, after being carded, has the 
shape of a thick rope of very loose texture, called "a 
roving ;" and the spinner had to reduce this roving to 
the tenuity of a thread, to place its fibres straight and to 
twist them together. The elongation of metal bars and 
plates, by passing them between cylinders, appears to 
have first suggested the idea, that carded rolls of wool 
and cotton might be lengthened into fine rovings by the 
same means. The attempt was made by Mr. John 
Wyatt, of Birmingham, so early as 1738, but it did not 
succeed, because no provision appears to have been 
made for straightening the fibres. Mr. Thomas Highs, 
a reed-maker of Leigh, made a rude machine for spin- 
ning cotton by rollers, in 1767, and he communicated 
his invention to John Kay, a clockmaker, whom he em- 
ployed to make a more perfect model of his machine. 
It is generally believed that Arkwright learned the se- 
cret of this invention from Kay, and that, at once pel'- 



4 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

ceiving its importance, he devoted all his energies to 
bring it to perfection. He employed two pairs of small 
rollers, the one being placed at a little distance in front 
of the other. The lower roller, in each pair, is fluted, 
and the upper covered with elastic leather, so as to take 
fast hold of the rope of carded wool which passes between 
them; and the second pair of rollers revolving with 
gi-eater rapidity than the first, the roving is lengthened, 
and the fibres pulled straight in passing from one pair to 
the other. This operation is several times repeated, 
in conjunction with some others, until the roving is suf- 
ficiently thin and all the fibres laid even ; it then re- 
ceives the requisite degi-ee of twist, which converts it 
into yarn. 

Arkwi'ight set up his first spinning-machine, as an ex- 
perimental model, in the parlor of the Free Grammar 
School of Preston ; but he received so little encourage- 
ment in Lancashire that he removed to Nottingham, 
where he applied to Messrs. Wright, the bankers, for 
some pecuniary aid in completing his machines, which 
was granted on condition of a share in the profits. But 
the perfecting of the machinery required more time and 
a greater outlay of capital than the bankers had antici- 
pated ; they therefore advised Arkvsright to obtain other 
assistance, and introduced him to Mr. Need, the partner 
of Mr. Jedediah Strutt, who had, some time before, ob- 
tained a patent for a most ingenious improvement of the 
stocking-frame. 

Mr. Strutt was one of the most remarkable and esti- 
mable men of his day : originally educated as a farmer, 
he had directed his attention to mechanical improve- 
ments, and had discovered the means of weaving ribbed 
stockings in the stocking-frame. He saw, at a glance, 
the merits of Arkwright's invention, and the defects in 
the adjustment of the parts which impeded its work- 
ing. A partnership was proposed, and accepted ; the 
capital of Messrs. Need and Strutt relieved Arkwright 
from pecuniary difficulties ; he soon made his machine 
practicable, and in 1769 secured his invention by a 
patent. 

Two kinds of yarn are used in weaving ; the stionger 
is employed for the w^arp, that is, the extended threads 



RICHARD ARKWRiGlIT. 5 

which run tlirough the length of the cloth ; and the 
softer or weaker, called the weft, which is thrown hori- 
zontally through the warp, by means of the shuttle. In 
order to protect the silk and woolen manufactures, the 
use of printed or dyed fabrics, which were then only to 
be obtained from India, was subject to veiy heavy du- 
ties. Arkwright's machinery enabled him to produce 
cotton-twist of sufficient strength for warps ; but the 
officers of excise refused to let his calicos pass unless 
they paid the same rate of duty as Indian goods ; and 
thus the act, which had been directed against East India 
produce, was now, contrary to the intention of the 
framers, made to operate against English manufactures. 
Application was made to parliament for relief ; but, 
strange to relate, the proposal to put English calicos 
on a legislative equality with other domestic manufac- 
tures, was opposed by all the cotton manufacturers of 
Lancashire ! This opposition was so utterly without 
an object, that it has been justly stigmatized as "one of 
the most signal instances on record of the blindness of 
commercial jealousy." 

Arkwright's immense success, the superiority of hi-s 
yarns in the market, and the rapidity with which he 
accumulated wealth, stimulated jealous inquiries ; and it 
began to be whispered that he had appropriated to him- 
self the inventions of others. Several manufacturers 
began to copy his machinery, and this raised the ques- 
tion of the validity of his patent. In 1785, Arkwright's 
patents were set aside, after one of the most interesting 
trials recorded in commercial history ; all the machines 
which he had perfected, if not invented, were thrown 
open to the public, and the cotton trade advanced with 
a rapidity for beyond what has been ever know^n in any 
other branch of industry. Capital and labor rushed to 
it in torrents ; mills were erected and filled Avrth ma- 
chinery ; while a series of new and brilliant mechanical 
inventions carried the manufacture to a height of pros- 
perity and perfection which is quite unparalleled. Some 
of the results of this series of inventions deserve to be 
noticed. The labor of one man, aided by power and 
machinery, can produce as much yarn as 250 men could 
spin without such assistance. In 1781 we only import- 



6 MODEKN JiKlTISll Pl.LTAKCII. 

ed 5,000,000 lbs. of cotton wool ; iu 1843 we imported 
531,000,000 lbs., enough to make 1, 260,000,000 yards of 
cloth, which is about two yards apiece for every human 
being in the world. Before machinery was employed, 
there were not more than 30,000 persons engaged in 
the cotton manufacture. The mills now afford employ- 
ment to at least ten times that number ; but if we add 
to those the persons engaged in all the trades connected 
with spinning and weaving — in the carriage, export, and 
sale of the goods produced — and in the import of the 
raw materials, the amount of persons dependent on the 
cotton trade for support, will be found, at the lowest es- 
timate, considerably above a million. 

Arkwright's prosperous career was not checked by 
the throw^ing open of the ti-ade. His superiority over 
his rivals was maintained by his extraordinary powers 
of organizing and combining a great diversity of opera- 
tions. He was the founder of the factory-system, in 
which hundreds of operatives, w^orking independently, 
are still producing one common result ; and he w^as long 
regarded as the most skilful manager of such an exten- 
sive concern. The mill at Cromford became his own 
when his partnership with the Messrs. Strutt termina- 
ted ; but he had beside large shares in extensive mills 
in Derbj^shire, Lancashire, and Scotland. He became 
high-sheriff of Derbyshire, and received the honor of 
knighthood from George HI.; he accumulated one of 
the largest fortunes ever acquired bj^ a private individ- 
ual in England ; and, what probably gratified him still 
more, he compelled the Lancashire spinners to confess 
his superiority and submit to his dictation. For several 
years he fixed the price of cotton-twist, no one ventur- 
ing to vary from his prices. He died on the 3d of Au- 
gust, 1792, in the midst of the opulence of Cromford, 
which he had himself created. 

The gi-eat characteristic of ArkwTight's mind, and the 
principal source of his success, was his indomitable per- 
severance. He had many disadvantages against him — 
want of capital, the popular prejudice against machinery, 
and the suspicion to which vast projects are naturally 
exposed. It was not until after the lapse of five years, 
and an enormous expenditure of capital, that his proj- 



RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 



ects were so far realized as to enable him to work his 
machinery with profit. We need not discuss the dis- 
puted question of tlie originality of the inventions asso- 
ciated with his name ; but the merit of the application 
is undeniably his, and, consequently, England is indebted 
to him for the most flourishing of her national manu- 
factures. 



EDMUND BURKE. 



There is no statesman of the past generation whose 
opinions are more frequently cited than those of Ed- 
mund Burke, and to whose authority more deference is 
professed, if not really exhibited ; and yet there are few 
public men whose character is more generally misun- 
derstood, and whose sentiments are more frequently 
misrepresented. He was one of those men, more nu- 
merous than is generally imagined, to whom history 
must act the part of commentator, because his lessons 
of wisdom are liable to be misunderstood, and even mis- 
interpreted, when taken apart from the circumstances 
which called for such instruction. The rule laid down 
by an eminent "\vi*iter, respecting the ancient philoso- 
phers, that we should, before interpreting icliat was 
said, take also into account ichen it was said, is one which 
should not be neglected by those who desire to profit 
by the wisdom of any great publicist ; but the rule is 
more especially applicable to the speeches and writings 
of Burke, who lived during a period when circumstances 
not only had a greater control over opinion, but ought 
to have exercised this control with greater stringency, 
than during any of which there exists a historic record. 
The charge of inconsistency, made against Burke, is, in 
fact, a charge against a course of events over which he 
had no control ; it is perfectly ti'ue that he advocated 
the principles which led to the American revolution, 
and eventually rendered the New England colonies a 
United States, independent of Old England ; and it is 
just as ti'ue that he bitterly opposed the first French 



EDxMUND BURKE. 9 

Revolution, wliicli subverted not only monarchy, but all 
consiitutioaal government. The inconsistency was not 
in the man, but in the things ; the result pronounces his 
acquittal ; the United States form, at this hour, an in- 
dependent and improving republic, without having gone 
through any organic change since its first establishment ; 
France, after having gone through a succession of revo- 
lutions, exhibits still a dismal past, a doubtful present, 
and an incomprehensible future. 

The early history of one, who not only exercised a 
commanding influence in his own day, but whose au- 
thority is accepted with reverence in ours, has little 
which rewards the labor of research. Born on Arran 
Quay, in Dublin, at the beginning of the year 1730, his 
feeble health seemed likely to prevent his occupying 
any conspicuous position. Neither as a school-boy, nor 
as a student in college, did he distinguish himself in any 
marked manner above his contemporaries. It was not 
until he came to London, and began to prepare himself 
for being called to the English bar, that he became 
conscious of the powers which had hitherto been latent. 
He quitted the law for the precarious hazards of literary 
life, and became a contributor to the various periodicals 
of his day. At this period the infidel speculations of 
Lord Bolingbroke had produced a most pernicious effect 
on the public mind, and Burke's first avowed work was 
an exposure of the dangerous tendency of these popular 
doctrines. His " Vindication of Natural Society," in 
which the style of Bolingbroke was so admirably imi- 
tated, as to constitute identity rather than resemblance, 
showed that the arguments employed against religion 
applied as strongly to every other element of civilization, 
and that, if received as valid, the duty of nations would 
be to revert as soon as possible to barbarism. Boling- 
broke's school of infidelity never recovered from this 
exposure of its necessary consequences, and Burke's 
first literary essay achieved a triumph which entitles 
him to lasting gratitude. 

His next work was, " An Essay into the Origin of our 
Ideas of the Subhme and Beautiful," which at once 
obtained a high rank among the standard works of 
EngUsh literature, and brought Burke acquainted with 



10 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and the other 
eminent men of the day. It was at this time that he 
projected and commenced the " Annual Register," a 
periodical which, in spite of many changes and vicissi- 
tudes, continues to be one of the best records of the 
political and literary history of the times. 

Among Burke's early admirers was Lord Charlemont, 
a nobleman of great acquirements, and still greater prin- 
ciples. Devoted to the cause of Ireland, his native 
country, he justly believed that he could in no way 
better contribute to its elevation, than by affording to 
able Irishmen an opportunity for developing their talents 
in the service of their countiy. It was with this view 
that he introduced Grattan into Parliament, and it was 
under the influence of a similar feeling that he intro- 
duced Burke to the Right Honorable William Gerard 
Hamilton, who, in 1761, had been apix)inted Chief 
Secretary for Ireland. Burke's services were rewarded 
with a pension of 300Z. per annum on the Irish estab- 
lishment. After holding it for tAVO years, Burke re- 
signed the pension, because it entailed on him a sub- 
serviency to which a man of his spirit could not tamely 
submit. 

It was probably through the intervention of Lord 
Charlemont that Burke w^as introduced to the Marquis 
of Rockingham, a nobleman of the most amiable dispo- 
sitions and patriotic intentions, though deficient in energy 
and administrative talent. Having been appointed pri- 
vate secretary to the Marquis of Eockingham, when 
that nobleman became premier in 1765, Burke was 
introduced to the English Parliament as member for 
Wendover. His first speech was in defence of the 
conciliatory policy towards the dissatisfied colonies in 
America, which the Rockingham administi-ation had 
resolved to carry into full effect. Few men so rapidly 
acquired parliamentaiy reputation ; in the course of the 
very first session of his senatorial career, Burke took 
his place among the first orators of the day, and estab- 
lished a high reputation for himself, both within and 
without the walls of Parliament. At this period the 
American colonies exhibited alarming signs of discontent, 
in consequence of the Stamp Act, while the merchants 



EDMUND BURKE. 11 

and manufactarers at home were incensed at restric- 
tions which threatened to destroy their trade. The 
ministers repealed the obnoxious Stamp Act, and passed 
several other popular measures, among which was a 
condemnation of general warrants as dangerous engines 
of oppression. 

The short administration of Lord Rockingham was a 
period of tranquillity ; in its place the Earl of Chatham, 
as premier, formed a cabinet, of which Burke has left us 
an inimitable description. ''He made an administration 
so checkered and speckled ; he put together a piece of 
joinery so crossly indented and whimsically dovetailed ; a 
cabinet so variously inlaid ; such a piece of diversified 
mosaic ; such a tessellated pavement without cement ; 
here a bit of black stone, and there a bit of white ; 
patriots and courtiers, king's friends and republicans ; 
Whigs and Tories ; treacherous friends and open ene- 
mies ; that it was indeed a very curious show, but 
utterly unsafe to touch, and unsure to stand on. . . . In 
consequence of this arrangement, having put so much 
the larger part of his enemies and opposers into power, 
the confusion was such that his own principles could 
not possibly have any effect or influence in the conduct 
of affairs. If ever he fell into a fit of the gout, or if any 
other cause withdrew him from public cares, principles 
directly the contraiy were seen to predominate. When 
he had executed his plan, he had not an inch of ground 
to stand upon. When he had accomplished his scheme 
of administration, he was no longer a minister." 

Chatham's cabinet fell to pieces, and was succeeded 
by the Grafton administration, under which the Letters 
of Junius first appeared. Burke was long suspected of 
having written these celebrated letters, but he strenu- 
ously denied the charge ; and it is now certain that he 
had no share in their composition. About this time he 
purchased the mansion and estate of Beaconsfield, in 
Buckinghamshire, where his large charities, and en- 
lightened exertions for advancing the physical comforts 
and raising the moral condition of all around, rendered 
his residence a blessing to the neighborhood. Miss 
Shackleton (afterwards Mrs. Leadbeater), the daughter 
of Burke's revered schoolmaster, when a girl, wrote a 



12 MODERN BRITISH I'LLTARCH. 

poem, aescriptive of Beaconsfield and its owner, a brief 
extract from which may interest our readers : — 

" When the sad voice of indigence he hears, 
And pain and sickness eloquent in tears, — 
Forsakes the festive board, with pitying eyes 
Mingles the healing draught, and sickness flies; 
Or, if the mind be torn with deep distress, 
Seeks with kind care the grievance to redress, — 
This— this is Edmund Burke— and this his creed — 
This is Sublime and Beautiful indeed !" 

In 1768 the state of public affairs in England exhibited 
a perplexity and confusion such as is rarely found in any 
country. 

We have, in a preceding page, quoted a description of 
the incongruous cabinet which Lord Chatham had 
formed. The first difficulty which presented itself to 
the ministiy was the affair of John Wilkes, who had 
been outlawed in consequence of his refusing to stand 
his ti'ial for the publication of an infamous libel. He 
applied to the Duke of Grafton for a pardon, and, being 
refused, came over to England, resolved to perplex 
and embarrass the administration. He returned to 
England when writs were issued for assembling a new 
parliament, presented himself as a candidate for the city 
of London, and, when defeated there, succeeded in 
carrying his election for Middlesex. He then surren- 
dered himself to the Court of King's Bench, obtained 
the I'eversal of his outlawry, but was sent to prison 
under a former sentence. The king could not bear the 
idea of Wilkes's triumph : he insisted that he should not 
be allowed to take his place in Parliament, while Chat- 
ham deprecated any interference as unconstitutional. 
On the day that parliament met, a tumultuous mob 
assembled round the prison Avhere Wilkes was confined, 
insisting that he should be allowed to take his seat. 
The Riot Act was read, the military called out, and 
some lives were lost in the struggle that ensued. Another 
libelous letter published by Wilkes afforded the minis- 
ters a pretext for his expulsion; he was again returned 
for Middlesex without opposition, but was not allowed to 
take his seat, and a new election having been ordered, 
Colonel Luttrell, though he had the smaller number of 



EDMUND BURKE. 13 

votes, was declared the sitting member. Burke acquired 
great popularity by his steady opposition to these violent 
proceedings, and, though he avowed his contempt for 
the private and public character of John Wilkes, he 
supported his cause as one that involved the electoral 
rights of the people of England. 

The determination of the majority of the cabinet to 
exclude John Wilkes from Parliament, and to levy taxes 
on the American colonies, at length induced Chatham to 
resign, and he immediately headed the opposition to the 
cabinet which he had himself formed. At the same 
time he became reconciled to Burke's patron, the Mar- 
quis of Rockingham, from wdiom he had been long 
estranged, and, in consequence, Burke, in the Commons, 
actively seconded Chatham's vehement opposition to the 
ministry in the Lords. In 1770 Burke published his 
" Thoughts on the Present Discontents," a work of 
great eloquence and power, but too exclusively confined 
to the advocacy of party. A far more splendid effort 
was his speech on American taxation, delivered in sup- 
port of Mr. Fuller's motion for repealing the duty on 
tea ; it is one of the finest specimens of parliamentaiy 
oratory which we possess, and parts of it may be read 
with interest at the present day. As an example of its 
nerve and force, we quote a brief passage, describing 
the rapid advance of the British colonies in America. 
" Nothing in the history of mankind is like their pro- 
gi'ess. For my pait, I never cast an eye on their flour- 
ishing commerce, and their cultivated and commodious 
life, but they seem to me rather ancient nations, grown 
to perfection through a long series of prosperous events, 
and a train of successful industry, accumulating wealth 
in many centuries, than the colonies of yesterday; than 
a set of miserable outcasts a few years ago, not so much 
sent as thrown out on the bleak and barren shore of a 
desolate wilderness, three thousand miles from all civil- 
ized intercourse." 

Burke's fame had now become so great, that, on the 
dissolution of Parliament, in 1774, he was invited to be- 
come a candidate for the city of Bristol, and was tri- 
umphantly returned, after an arduous contest. Events 
had now proved the danger of the policy pursued to- 
B 



14 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

ward America ; every one saw that civil war was on 
the point of commencing in the coionies, and when 
Burke brought forward his plan of conciliation, many of 
those who voted against it, secretly wished that it could 
be adopted. Unfortunately, the king had conceived 
strong prejudices against the American colonies, and 
still more unfortunately, the premier. Lord North, yield- 
ed to those prejudices against his better judgment. The 
course of the American war belongs to history ; from its 
commencement to its close, Burke was the consistent 
advocate of peace and conciliation ; but his advice was 
neglected, and his warnings disregarded. On a similar 
question, relating to Ireland, the ministers manifested a 
more wise and generous policy ; they resolved to remove 
the heavy restrictions, which, for the supposed interests 
of England, had been imposed upon the ti*ade of that 
country ; Burke zealously supported the measures for 
liberating commerce from the restrictions that an unwise 
jealousy had imposed ; but he thus offended his con- 
stituents in Bristol, who believed that these restiictions 
tended to their own profit. His support of Sir George 
Savile's bill for the removal of some of the civil disabili- 
ties to which persons professing the Roman Catholic 
religion were subjected, gave equal offence to many of 
his supporters ; so that, on the dissolution of Parlia- 
ment, in 1780, he found it useless to contest Bristol, 
and entered the new Parliament as member for the 
little borough of 31alton in Yorkshire. 

The utter failure of the ministerial plans for the re- 
covery of the American colonies, at length compelled 
Lord North to resign, and in March, 1782, the Rocking- 
ham party returned to power. Burke received the 
oflfice of paymaster of the forces, and gave a signal proof 
of his consistency and integrity. While in opposition 
he had brought forward a plan of economical reform, 
which had been loudly applauded, but at the same time 
sternly rejected ; he now renewed his plan, under bet- 
ter auspices, and saw it carried through both houses of 
Parliament, to his great delight, though the change took 
away more than a thousand a year from the emoluments 
of his own office. 

The new ministry had scarcely time to an-ange their 



EDMUND BURKE. 15 

plans of administration, when its head, the Marquis of 
Rockingham, died rather suddenly, and was succeeded 
as premier by the Earl of Shelburne. This appoint- 
ment was so distasteful to his colleagues, that many of 
them immediately resigned and went into active opposi- 
tion. Mr. Fox, who had begun political life as a parti- 
san of the court, but had now for many years professed 
himself the pupil of Burke, was the leader of the oppo- 
sition to the Earl of Shelburne ; in the heat of his hos- 
tility he entered into a coalition with Lord North, and 
the united parliamentary influence of these leaders 
proved too strong for the ministry. The king, after a 
long and proti'acted resistance, arising chiefly from his. 
personal dislike of Mr. Fox, was obliged to submit to 
the coalition ; a new ministry was formed, and Burke 
once more resumed his oflice of paymaster. 

The new ministry had a large majority in Parliament, 
but did not possess the confidence of the king, and it was 
far from being popular with the nation. Fox had so 
often, during the American war, reviled and stigmatized 
Lord North as the worst enemy of the country, that his 
junction with that statesman seemed to be an act of 
inconsistency almost amounting to profligacy. Burke 
came in for no small share of the unpopularity attend- 
ing the coalition, and to him was generally attributed 
Mr. Fox's " India Bill," designed to correct the gross 
misgovernment of the British empire in Hindustan. 
Now that the animosities of paity have cooled down on 
this subject, it is allowed on all hands that the proposed 
measure was in its main provisions desirable and effi- 
cient. But it vested a large amount of patronage in the 
Parliament, which was the same in effect as giving it to 
the ministers, independent of the king. George IIL 
was easily persuaded that the design of the bill was to 
strengthen an obnoxious cabinet against himself, and he 
therefore resolved to resist it to the uttermost. The 
strength of the ministry, aided by the powerful elo- 
quence of Burke, secured for the bill triumphant suc- 
cess in the Commons ; but when it reached the Lords, 
the king, through Earl Temple, caused it to be known 
that he would regard every one who supported the bill 
as his personal enemy. It was consequently thrown 



16 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

out, on the second reading ; and this blow was followed 
up by the immediate dismissal of the ministers. Pitt, 
then only in his twenty-fifth year, was appointed pre- 
mier, and a strange sti'uggle took place between the 
royal will and the majority of the House of Commons. 
That majority, however, not being supported by public 
opinion, gradually dwindled down from fifty-four to one. 
At this critical moment, Pitt advised the bold measure 
of dissolving Parliament ; his success was signal ; no less 
than 160 members of the old Parliament lost their seats, 
and were whimsically nicknamed " Fox's Martyrs." 

In 1784 Burke was elected Lord Rector by the Uni- 
versity of Glasgow, a merited tribute paid to his literary 
merits at a time when his political reputation was ob- 
scm-ed. But though in opposition, he did not lose sight 
of Indian afitairs ; in 1785 he delivered a remarkable 
speech on the debts of the Nabob of Arcot, and in the 
following year he moved for the prosecution of the Gov- 
ernor-general of India, Warren Hastings. Rarely has 
eloquence won such a triumph as that which Burke 
achieved on this occasion ; he won over the nation to his 
views ; he forced the minister, who exhibited at first 
partiality for the accused, to preserve a rigid neutrality, 
and he carried a vote for the impeachment of Hastings, 
from a reluctant majority of the House of Commons. 
The conduct of the trial of Hastings, at the bar of the 
House of Lords, was committed to a body of managers, 
the chief of whom were Burke, Fox, Sheridan, Francis, 
Grey, &:«., but of whom Burke was the chief director 
and animating spirit. The speech which he deliv- 
ered on this memorable occasion was never surpassed 
in its thrilling effect, and even at the present day can 
scarcely be read with calmness. We shall quote a few 
passages ; he thus describes the nature of the crimes 
charged against Hastings : — 

" We charge this oflt'ender with no crimes that have 
not arisen from passions which it is criminal to harbor ; 
with no offences that have not their root in avarice, 
rapacity, pride, insolence, ferocity, treachery, cruelty, 
malignity of temper ; in short, in nothing that does not 
argue a total extinction of all moral principle ; that does 
not manifest an inveterate blackness of heart, dyed in 



EDMUND BURKE. 17 

grain with malice, vitiated, corrupted, gangrened to the 
very core. If we do not plant his crimes in those vices, 
which the breast of man is made to abhor, and the spirit 
of all laws, human and divine, to interdict, we desire no 
longer to be heard upon this occasion. Let everything 
that can be pleaded on the ground of surprise or error, 
upon thorse grounds be pleaded with success ; we give 
up the whole of those predicaments. We urge no 
crimes that were not crimes of forethought. We charge 
him with nothing that he did not commit upon delibera- 
tion ; that he did not commit against advice, supplica- 
tion, and remonstrance ; that he did not commit against 
the direct command of lawful authority ; that he did not 
commit after reproof and reprimand, the reproof and 
reprimand of those who are authorized by the laws to 
reprove and reprimand him. The crimes of Mr. Has- 
tings a«re crimes not only in themselves, but aggravated 
by being crimes of contumacy. They were crimes not 
against forms, but against those eternal laws of justice 
which are our rule and our birthright. His offences 
are not, in formal, technical language, but in reality, 
in substance and effect, high crimes and high misde- 
meanors." 

The description of the cruelties of Debi Sing, one of 
the worst agents of Indian tyranny, is, unfortunately, 
too long to be extracted, and too important to be mutila- 
ted ; it drew forth murmurs of execration from the 
whole assembly of lords and spectators, while many of 
the female part of the audience fainted. The conclud- 
ing passages of the speech must not be omitted : — 

" I impeach Warren Hastings, Esq. of high crimes 
and misdemeanors. 

" I impeach him in the name of the Commons of 
Great Britain in Parliament assembled, whose parlia- 
mentary ti-ust he has beti-ayed. 

" I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of 
Great Britain, whose national character he has dishon- 
ored. 

"I impeach him in the name of the people of India, 
whose laws, rights, and liberties he has subverted ; whose 
properties he has destroyed, whose country he has laid 
\vaste and desolate. 

2 e2 



18 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

" I impeach liim in the name, and by virtue, of those 
eternal laws of justice, which he has violated. 

" I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, 
which he has cruelly outraged, injured, and oppressed 
in both sexes, in every age, rank, situation, and condi- 
tion of life." 

After a trial which lasted more than seven years, 
Warren Hastings was acquitted, principally in conse- 
quence of the tedious length to which the pi'oceedings 
had been protracted, every one having become weary of 
the subject. Posterity will probably believe, that there 
were great crimes, and great excuses for them, in the 
government of India by the accused. 

In the autumn of 1788 the alarming state of the king's 
health forced the question of a regency on the consider- 
ation of Parliament. So severe and violent was his at- 
tack of mental disease, that his malady was generally 
deemed incurable. Mr. Pitt proposed that the royal 
authority should be delegated to the Prince of Wales, 
under certain restrictions ; Mr. Fox and his friends op- 
posed these restrictions with all their might. Burke, 
in particular, assailed the minister with continued wit, 
sarcasm, argument, and ridicule ; but, while the question 
was still in debate, the king's malady sensibly abated, 
and in the following spring his health was sufficiently 
recovered to allow of his resuming the functions of gov- 
ernment. 

The closing scene of Mr. Burke's political career was 
associated with the gi-eatest event of modern times, the 
French Revolution. From the very first, Burke de- 
nounced the political changes effected by the agency of 
infuriate multitudes ; and, while others, including many 
of the wisest and best men in the country, rejoiced in 
the triumph of liberty over despotism, Burke denounced 
the anarchy, the in-eligion, and the lust of conquest, 
which he too truly predicted would mark the career of 
the French republicans. While his mind was filled 
with these thoughts, he produced his most remarkable 
work, " Reflections on the Revolution in France." Its 
success was unexampled ; thirty thousand copies were 
sold within the year ; it was translated into French, and 
widely circulated over the Continent. Several replies 



EDMUND BURKE. 19 

were wiitteu to it : the best by Sir .Tames Mackintosh ; 
the most popular, though the worst, by Tom Paine. 
Burke followed up his success by several other publica- 
tions on the same subject, which produced a strong- 
effect on the public mind, both in England and on the 
Continent ; indeed these writings had no small share 
in kindUng the great war against France. 

A difference of opinion, on such an important question 
as the French Revolution, necessarily led to a coolness 
between Burke and his former friend Fox, but the final 
rupture was wholly owing to the intemperance of the 
former. In the debate on the bill for the government of 
Canada, Mr. Burke announced that his friendship with 
Mr. Fox was at an end. Mr. Fox was moved even to 
tears by this disruption of long-continued confidence ; a 
painful scene of explanation followed, but the breach 
was irreparable, they never met again as friends. To 
justify this separation, Burke published his " Appeal 
from the Old to the New Whigs," which was soon fol- 
lowed by his " Thoughts on French Affairs," in which 
he reiterated his warnings against the dangerous ambi- 
tion of the French republicans. At the same time he 
exerted himself successfully to obtain a relaxation of the 
penal laws that had been enacted against the Irish Cath- 
olics, and it was owing chiefly to his exertions and influ- 
ence that they were admitted to the enjoyment of sev- 
eral constitutional privileges by the Irish Parliament. 
France, however, continued to be the engrossing sub- 
ject of his thoughts ; he assailed the French republicans 
by his speeches and writings, until, on the dissolution 
of Parliament, in 1794, he retired from public life. 

In the same year he suffered the most severe calam- 
ity which he had yet encountered — the loss of his only 
son, to whom he was attached with a devotedness ex- 
ceeding parental partiality. " The grief of Burke," 
says one of his relatives, " was appalling ; he would sit 
in that unnatural calmness of despair more terrific than 
the most stormy display of passion ; then, bursting into 
a fi-enzy, he would rush into the chamber where his 
son lay, and throwing himself on the body, call in accents 
of fearful anguish for the hope of his age, the stay of 
his life, the only comfort of his declining and now joy- 



20 



MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 



less years." We need not dwell longer on this melan- 
choly spectacle — the grief of the father is sacred. 

Public affairs had alone tlie power of weaning him 
from the perilous indulgence of solitary grief ; he pub- 
lished letters on the Catholic question; a defence of his 
own political conduct against the charges made by his 
former friends ; and " Thoughts and Details on Scarcity," 
in which he ably expounded and zealously defended the 
great principles of economic science. In 1795, the gov- 
ernment, unasked and unsolicited, conferred a pension 
on Mr. Burke ; his acceptance of the favor exposed him 
to much severe censure from the party he liad aban- 
doned, but he defended his conduct in his celebrated 
" Letter to the Duke of Bedford," which silenced the 
clamors of liis adversaries forever. His hen 1th was now 
rapidly declining, but he exerted himself in occasional 
publications to point out the necessity of putting an end 
to the misrule and misery of Ireland, exhorting the Par- 
liament of England to redress the grievances of that 
country, and to relieve its suffering people. He also 
published his "Thoughts on a Regicide Peace," intend- 
ed to animate the drooping spirits of those who were 
disheartened by the disasters of the war. In 1797 his 
constitution was so enfeebled that he repaired to Bath 
far the benefit of rhe waters ; but having remained there 
four months without experiencing any improvement, 
he returned to Beaconstield, resigned to death. His 
end was calm, dignified, and tranquil ; he expired on 
the 9th of July, 1797, in the sixty-eighth year of his 
age. Mr. Fox, with generous forgetfulness of recent 
differences, proposed that the remains of the great ora- 
tor should be publicly interred in Westminster Abbey, 
but this being inconsistent with Burke's will, he was 
buried in Beaconsfield church, in the same gi-ave with 
his brother and his son. However men may differ in 
their estimate of different parts of Burke's life, few can 
view it as a whole without subscribing to the magnifi- 
cent eulogy of Grattan : " His immortality is that which 
is common to Cicero or to Bacon— that which can never 
be interrupted while there exists the beauty of order or 
the love of virtue, and which can fear no death except 
what barbarity may impose upon the globe." 



ROBERT BURNS. 



" Burns," says Professor Wilson, " is by far the great- 
est poet that ever sprang from the bosom of the people, 
and lived and died in a humble condition." He was born 
on the 25th of January, 1759, in a clay-built cottage 
in Ayrshire, and so IVail was the tenement, that about 
a week after his birth, part of the cottage gave way at 
midnight, and the infant poet and his mother were car- 
ried amid the storm to a neighboring hovel. William 
Burns, or Burness, the father of the poet, was a g.irdener 
and small farmer, who possessed in an eminent degree 
the characteristic virtues of the peasantry of Scotland ; 
be was industrious, frugal, and pious ; careful to procure 
for his children the best education which his means could 
afford, and anxious to promote the expansion of their 
minds by reading and conversation. Robert, his eldest 
son, was sent at an early age to school, and after he had 
acquired the first rudiments of learning, became remark- 
able for his earnest devotion to reading. In a remote 
part of the country, at that period, books were I'are, and 
could only be obtained with difficulty : there was no 
room for selection or choice, and the boy read with avid- 
ity everything that came in his way. His favorite book 
was a collection of songs, which he mentions with gi-eat 
affection in his interesting letter to Dr. Moore, the au- 
thor of " Zeluco." " The collection of songs," he says, 
" was my vade 7necum (constant companion). 1 pored 
over them, driving my cart, or walking to labor, song by 
song, verse by verse, carefully noticing the true tender 
and sublime, from affectation or fustian ; and I am con- 



22 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

vinced I owe to this practice much of my critic-craft, 
such as it is." His eagerness for learning induced him 
to acquire a sufficient knowledge of the French language 
to enable him to read and understand the prose writers ; 
he made a similar effort to learn Latin, but soon aban- 
doned it from want of time for study. 

Notwithstanding the industry and frugality of William 
Burns, he became involved in great difficulties ; the soil 
of his farm was bad, and he lost several of his cattle by 
accident and disease. He was thus obliged early to 
avail himself of the labor of his children ; at the age of 
thirteen, Robert assisted in threshing the crop of corn, 
and at fifteen, he was the principal laborer on the estate. 
During the following seven yeai-s the family had to make 
60 arduous a struggle for the means of existence, that 
there was little leisure for literary improvement. In 
his twenty-third year he resolved to learn the trade of 
a flax-dresser, but the shop of his intended master hav- 
ing been burned down, he returned home, and after his 
father's death, in conjunction with his brother Gilbert, 
took the farm of Mossgiel. 

Prosperity did not shine on the labors of the brothers ; 
the farm lies very high, exposed to keen blasts, and had 
a cold wet subsoil, so that ungenial weather was partic- 
ularly unfavorable to its crops. Four frosty seasons, 
each followed by a late spring, came in succession, and 
the family was poorer at the end than at the beginning. 
It was during this period, however, that Burns produced 
his earliest and some of his best poems. The verses 
were usually composed during the labors of the daj-, and 
were written out at night on a table in the stable -loft, 
which served him as a bed-chamber. His reputation 
for knowledge, his convivial talents, and his superior 
strength of mind, rendered him popular with the rustics 
of his own class, and with many of a higher rank of life ; 
hence he was often induced to join in scenes of dissipa- 
tion, and he thus acquired habits which had a fatal effect 
on the whole of his future existence. An act of impru- 
dence which led to a secret marriage with Jane Armour, 
who subsequently became his acknowledged wife, brought 
him to the brink of ruin. Her family and friends were 
BO displeased that they wished to prevent the union, and 



ROBERT BURNS. 23 

Burns, reduced to despair, sought for the situation of 
overseer on the estate of Dr. Douglas, in Jamaica. As 
]ie had not sufficient money to pay the expenses of a 
passage to the West Indies, he resolved to publish his 
Poems by subscription, for the purpose of raising the 
necessary funds. In July, 1786, the first edition was 
published at the Kilmarnock press : it was very favora- 
bly received, and the author realized a profit of twenty 
pounds. He had taken his passage in the first ship that 
was to sail for Jamaica from the Clyde, and his chest 
was on the road to Greenock, when one of his friends 
received a letter from Dr. Blacklock, of Edinburgh, de- 
scribing the sensation which his Poems had produced 
in the Scottish metropolis, and the probability of his being 
able to bring out a second edition of tiiem under more 
favorable auspices. 

In the September of 1786, Burns came to Edinburgh, 
which was at that time the residence of some of the 
most celebrated literary men of their age. Professor 
Dugald Stewart, Dr. Hugh Blair, Lord Monboddo, Dr. 
A-dam Ferguson, the historian Robertson, Mackenzie, 
the author of The Man of Feeling, and several other 
eminent men, had raised a circle of society which has 
rarefy been surpassed in the fame and character of its 
members. But unfortunately the city also contained 
men of considerable talents and varied acquirements, 
who sometimes indulged in excesses beyond the limits 
of regularity and temperance. The kindness of those 
to %vhom Burns was introduced, particularly the Earl 
of Glencairn, whose premature death he afterward 
lamented in the most pathetic of elegies, procured the 
rustic stranger admission to the gayest and highest cir- 
cles, and unfortunately he had not always strength to 
resist the temptations by which he was beset. The 
new edition of his Poems appeared with a subscription 
list of more than fifteen hundred names, including those 
of the highest and most distinguished men in Scotland. 
This success induced him to gratify his taste by visiting 
those parts of his native country most remarkable for 
the beaut}'- or grandeur of their scenery, but the accounts 
he has left of these little tours are not so interesting as 
might have been expected. On his return to Edinburgh 



24 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

he gave a touching proof of his sensibihty and good feel- 
ing, by searching out the grave of the unfortunate poet 
Ferguson, and procuring a monument to be erected 
over it at his own expense. 

At his final settlement with his publisher. Burns 
found himself master of nearly <£oOO, clear of all ex- 
penses. With this sum he returned to Mossgiel, where 
he was received by his affectionate mother with a 
warmth of feeling which probably gave him more sin- 
cere pleasure than all his former triumphs. He imme- 
diately advanced tAvo hundred pounds to his brother 
Gilbert, who had taken upon himself the support of 
their aged mother, and was struggling with many diffi- 
culties in the farm at Mossgiel. With the remainder 
he took and stocked the farm of Elliesland, on the river 
JNith, six miles above Dundee. His marriage was now 
publicly avowed, and he resolved to devote the remain- 
der of his life to his wife and children. Having been 
previously recommended to the Board of Excise for 
some humble situation in the revenue, he applied him- 
self to acquire the necessary information, hoping that he 
would be able to unite the occupations of a farmer and 
a ganger. Feeling strongly his responsibihties as a 
husband and a father, he resolved to lead a life of 
prudence, temperance, and industry ; he immediately 
engaged in rebuilding the dwelling-house on his farm, 
which did not afford sufficient accommodation for his 
family, and he worked himself as a laborer, expressing 
pleasure at finding that neither his strength nor his skill 
were impaired. 

The separation froin his wife and children at this 
period, though but temporary, was productive of very 
injurious consequences. He was tempted to pay them 
frequent visits in Ayrshire, and, as the distance was too 
g]"eat for a single day's journey, he generally spent a 
night at an inn on the road. When recognized, he was 
invited to join any company which chance had brought 
together, and thus his habits of dissipation were re- 
newed, and he was led to neglect his farm for jovial 
parties. When his family at length came home he had 
begun to view his farm with dislike and despondence, if 
not with disgust, and, having received the appointment 



ROBERT BURNS. 25 

of gauger, he abandoned it altogether to the care of his 
servants. 

Besides his duties in the Excise and his social pleas- 
ures, other circumstances interfered with the attention 
of Burns to his farm. He engaged in the formation of 
a society for purchasing and circulating books amono- 
the farmers of the neighborhood, of which he undertook 
the management, and he occupied himself occasionally 
in composing songs for the musical work of Mr. John- 
son, then in course of publication. These engagements, 
though useful and honorable in themselves, were 
allowed to engi-oss too large a share of his time, and 
they withdrew his thoughts from the business of agri- 
culture. Sad results followed, notwithstanding the 
uniform prudence and care of Mrs. Burns ; and though 
the rent of his farm was moderate and reasonable, the 
poet found it necessary to resign his farm to his land- 
lord, after having occupied it about three years and a 
half. He retired, with the wreck of his property, to a 
small house in Dumfries, having now nothing on which 
he could depend but an income of about seventy pounds 
a-year from the Excise. 

His new residence was more perilous to Burns than 
that which he had quitted, for the town exposed him 
to the temptations of company. It is true that he 
numbered among his friends some of the most respect- 
able persons in Dumfries, and that travelers who visited 
the place eagerly sought an introduction to the Ayi-shire 
poet. By such persons he was received with respect, 
and treated with kindness. There were times, also, 
when his poetic powers burst forth with all their origi- 
nal vigor, and he produced several short lyrics of the 
highest excellence. But the sad truth must not be 
concealed — he formed acquaintance with many dissi- 
pated associates, and indulged in drunken habits, to 
which, indeed, his situation as gauger afforded too many 
temptations. 

At this time he had some hopes of promotion in the 
Excise, but circumstances occurred which led him to 
believe that they would never be fulfilled. He had 
.shared in the hopes of amelioration formed at the com- 
mencement of the French Revolution by men of en- 
C 



26 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

thusiastic and benevolent minds ; with his usual impru- 
dence in his social and unguarded moments, he uttered 
his sentiments in language unnecessarily vehement, and 
an exaggerated report ot" the circumstance was made 
to the Board of Excise. A superior officer was sent to 
investigate the matter, and his representations were so 
far favorable that Burns was allowed to retain his situa- 
tion, but he was, at the same time, informed that his 
promotion was deferred, and must depend on his future 
behavior. These events preyed on the sensitive mind 
of the poet, and, at the same time, his health began to 
decline ; but he did not abandon his dangerous indul- 
gences in drinking, and on one occasion, he dined at a 
tavern, after having just recovered from a severe attack 
of illness, whence he did not return home until the fol- 
lowing morning. It was in the midst of a severe winter ; 
tlie coldness of the weather, united to his intoxication, 
brought on a severe attack of rheumatism, which was 
followed by a general decline both of his mental and 
physical constitution. In the summer he went to the 
sea-side, but, finding no improvement from the change 
of air or the bathing, he returned to Dumfries, to die in 
the centi-e of his family. The fatal hour was not far 
distant; on the 21st of July, 1796, his sufferings were 
terminated, " and a life was closed, in which virtue and 
passion had been at perpetual variance." 

As Burns died in great poverty, a subscription was 
raised for his family, and this, added to the profits of an 
edition of his works brought out under the friendly 
superintendence of Dr. Currie, placed them in coiupar- 
ative independence. Had he foreseen the honorable 
career v/hich his childi'en have since pursued, he would 
have been spared from much of the suffering which 
anxiety for their welfare occasioned in his last illness. 

All the great writers of the present century have 
borne such earnest and unanimous testimony to the 
poetic merits of Burns, that it is unnecessary here to 
dwell at any length upon the subject. All his writings 
seem, however, but a fraction of the greatness that was 
in him — glimpses of a gloiy which only wanted oppor- 
tunity to shine forth in its full effulgence. His poems 
are, with scarcely any exceptions, mere occasional effu- 



ROBERT BURNS. 27 

sions, poured forth with httle premeditation, expressing, 
by such means as offered, the passion, opinion, or humor 
of the hour. But they are all preeminently distinguished 
by their sincerity and their indisputable air of truth. 
" Fight Avho will about words and forms," said Lord 
Byron, "Burns' rank is in the first class of his art." 

Of his personal character, his many virtues, and his 
many errors, enough, perhaps, has been said in the 
preceding pages. Amidst all his distresses he preserved 
a most independent spirit, and carefully avoided debt or 
incurring any pecuniary obligation. He refused to avail 
himself of the generosit^^ of friends or patrons, and this 
quality of his mind should be taken into account when 
his distresses are made the subject of reproach to his 
countrymen. Respect for his memory forms part of 
the national creed of Scotland ; his poems are read, 
recited, and revered equally in the lordly hall and the 
peasant's cabin ; they are all the delight of the young 
and the solace of the aged ; but their fame is not con- 
fined to their country : wherever the British race has 
spread, the poems of Burns have followed, and we 
doubt whether any bard has had more readers and more 
admirers. Noble qualities of soul could alone have 
commanded such a triumph. 

" Then be his failings covered by his tomb, 
And guardian laurels o'er his ashes bloom." 



LORD BYRON. 



Few subjects are more painful to contemplate than 
the errors of genius. While the inflexible principles of 
rectitude compel us to denounce vice, whatever may be 
the intellectual qualities with which it is accompanied, 
there is a kind of awe produced in the mind by the 
contemplation of great abilities which leads us to avoid 
searching too closely into conduct which we know that 
we must condemn. It is, however, necessary, for the 
sake of youth, to show that the faults as well as the 
virtues of early hfe exercise a marked effect on man's 
subsequent career, and that the process of self-training 
and self-culture, in which every man must engage, has 
a large share in determining the course of future exist- 
ence. This moral is apparent in the whole career of 
the noble poet whose life we are about to contemplate. 

The want of self-restraint was the great source of all 
the errors and all the unhappiness of a career which 
might have been one of unsullied glory and unmingled 
utility. George Gordon Byron wns the only son of 
Captain John Byron, and the grandson of the celebrated 
Admiral Byron. He was born in London, January 22d, 
1788, and, by an accident at his birth, was rendered 
slightly lame for Mfe. Soon after this event his parents 
separated ; his father, a profligate, who had dissipated 
his own fortune and that of his wife, retired to Valen- 
ciennes, where he died in 1791 ; Mrs. Byron, with her 
infant son, removed to Aberdeen, where her limited 
means aftbrded more comforts than she could procure ia 
London. The mother of the poet was a woman of 



LORD BYRON. 29 

violent teinjier and inordinate family pride, and similar 
defects became manifest in Byron at an early age. 
These were increased by his sudden change of fortune; 
on the death of his uncle, without children, he became, at 
ten years of age, the possessor of a peerage and a fair 
estate. After a brief residence at Newstead, the seat of 
his ancestors, he was sent to the school of Dr. Glennie, 
at Dulwich, where he appears to have gained the 
esteem both of his master and his schoolfellows. He 
had read a greater stock of history and poetiy than 
was usual at his age ; the Scriptures were familiar to 
him, particularly the historical books of the Old Testa- 
ment, and he had formed habits of solitary reflection 
and contemplation, which enabled him to render his 
knowledge almost a part of his mind. Unfortunately 
the capricious fondness of his mother inteiTupted this 
course of useful progress; she frequently withdrew him 
from school, and M^hen he was at home treated him 
with alternate extremes of violence and fondness. The 
Earl of Carlisle, who was the boy's guardian, felt it his 
duty to interfere ; he resolved upon sending his ward to 
Harrow, whither he was removed in his fourteenth 
year. He met, among his schoolfellows at HaiTow, 
many who have since taken high rank in public life ; and 
the master of the school. Dr. Drury, was one who 
combined, in an eminent degree, the best qualifications 
for an instructor of youth. Byron did not profit as 
much as he might have done by these advantages ; he 
was regarded as a wayward, clever, but idle boy, pos- 
sessing unquestionable talents, but unwilling to be bound 
by the rules of scholastic discipline. But though he 
neglected his prescribed studies, he seems to have 
greatly increased his store of general knowledge by 
miscellaneous reading. " The truth is," he said, " that 
I read eating, read in bed, read when no one else read, 
and had read all sorts of reading since I was five years 
old." Though not at first much liked by his schoolfel- 
lows, he soon formed friendships with several of them, 
and always looked back to his residence at Harrow as 
one of the most happy periods of his Hfe. Indeed, he 
had acquired such influence over his playmates, that 
once, during a rebellion, he prevented the school-room 



30 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

from being burned down, by pointing out to the boys 
the names of their fathers and gi'andfathers inscribed 
on the walls. 

During the Harrow vacations he resided \vith his 
mother, who does not appear to have improved either 
in temper or prudence ; Byron's temperament was warm 
and ijiipulsive, and, had his mother known how to in- 
spire him with respect and confidence, she might have 
guided him at her pleasure. He began to evince the 
passion of love at an early age, for we are informed that 
when only eight years old he formed an attachment to 
Mary Dutf, so strong that he was thrown into convul- 
sions by hearing of her marriage eight years afterwards. 
He afterwards made his first essay in poetry, under the 
inspiration of a passion for his first cousin, Miss Marga- 
ret Parker, whom he described as " one of the most 
beautiful of evanescent beings;" but his most lasting 
attachment, and that which influenced his whole life, 
was for Miss Mary Chaworth, whose father had been 
killed in a duel bj^ his great uncle. Unfortunately for 
Byron, the lady, who was two years his senior, regarded 
his love as the fanciful passion of a school-boy, and was, 
besides, engaged to Mr. Musters, whom she subsequently 
married. The news of her marriage was very abruptly 
communicated to Byron by his mother ; but, though he 
concealed all outward signs of emotion, he felt the dis- 
appointment with the keenest bitte]-ness, and never 
alluded to it without suffering. 

Having completed his studies at Harrow, Lord Byron 
removed to Trinity College, Cambridge ; but. unlike 
most youths, he felt gi'eat pain at exchanging the life of 
a school for that of a university. His imaginative mind 
probably revolted from the severe mathematical studies 
in vogue at Cambridge ; and, among his other eccen- 
ti'icities, he ridiculed the university by keeping a bear, 
which he declared that he was ti'aining as a candidate 
for fellowship. The poet's career at the university was 
indeed neither useful to himself nor instructive to others ; 
we shall therefore pass it over, only observing that it was 
during this period he commenced his first work, " Hours 
of Idleness," which was printed at Newark, in 1807. In 
the following year a most severe and, in many respects, 



LORD BYRON. 31 

unjust criticism of these juvenile poems appeared in the 
" Edinburgh Review." His feelings, under the lash of 
the reviewer, were most poignant and vindictive ; he 
immediately commenced, as a retort, his celebrated 
satire, entitled ''English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," 
in which he hurled defiance at almost every great wi-iter 
of the day. 

Having come of age in 1809, a little previous to the 
publication of the Satire, he informed his guardian. Lord 
Carlisle, of his intention to take his seat in the house of 
peers ; the earl, belonging to a family which has for 
many generations been honorably distinguished by its 
high tone of morality and dignified propriety, was, prob- 
ably, annoyed by the irregularities and eccentricities of 
his noble ward, which were, unfortunately, too noto- 
rious. He replied, in a cold note, merely explaining the 
formalities necessary to be observed on the occasion. 
Lord Chancellor Eldon further galled the sensitive bard, 
by insisting strictly on the completion of the evidence 
necessary to support his claim ; and thus, the ceremony 
of taking his hereditary seat among his peers was one 
which produced him great mortification. 

The Satire which we have mentioned, was published 
anonymously soon after he had taken his seat, and some 
bitter lines were inserted against the Earl of Carlisle, in 
revenge for his supposed neglect. Its success was im- 
mediate and decided ; the very daring and boldness of 
its injustice contributed to its popularity. In later years, 
Byron, who had become the intimate friend of many of 
those whom he had wantonly assailed, lamented the 
publication of this bitter effusion, and would have sup- 
pressed it had he not parted with the copyright. Just 
before the appearance of the second edition he quitted 
England on his travels, iu company with Mr., now Sir 
John, Hobhouse. As the Continent was then closed 
against Englishmen by the war with Napoleon, the- trav- 
elers proceeded to the Levant, and examined the classic 
shores of Greece, SjTfia, and Asia Minor, and the not 
less interesting aspect of society presented by the pecu- 
liar population of Turkey. The feelings with which he 
quitted England are thus described in the first canto of 
" Childe Harold," a poem which very faithfully records 



32 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

the impressions produced on his mind by his travels in 
distant lands : — 

" Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun, 
Disporting there like any other fly ; 
Nor deem'd before his little day was done 
One blast might chill him into misery. 
But long e'er scarce a third of his pass'd by 
Worse than adversity the Childe befell; 
He felt the fulness of satiety : 
Then loath'd he in his native land to dwel 
Which seein'd to him more lone than eremite's sad cell. 

" For he through sin's long labyrinth had run, 
Nor made atonement when he did amiss ; 
Had sigh'd to many though he lov'd but one, 
And that loved one, alas ! could ne'er be his. 
Ah, happy she ! to 'scape from him whose kiss 
Had been pollution unto aught so chaste, 
Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss. 
And spoil'd her goodly lands to gild his waste. 
Nor calm domestic bliss had ever deign'd to taste. 

" And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart, 
And from his fellow bacchanals would flee. 
'Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start, 
But pride congeal'd the drop within his ee : 
Apart he stalk'd in joyless reverie, 
And from his native land resolv'd to go 
And visit scorching climes beyond the sea. 
With pleasure drugg'd he almost long'd for woe, 
And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades below " 

In these stanzas, and in many other passages of his 
writings, Lord Byron seems to have taken a morbid 
pleasure in exaggerating the imperfections of his own 
character; his means were too limited to admit of such 
extravagance of dissipation as he has porti-ayed. The 
transition from a debauched profligate to an intelligent 
observer and profound thinker is too abrupt ; and few 
have read the first cantos of " Childe Harold," without 
feeling that the confessions of sensuality, in the begin- 
ning of the poem, are inconsistent with the keen per- 
ception of intellectual beauty which pervades all the rest. 
On his travels it was the poet's pleasure to lead a life of 
hardihood and temperance. He used frequently to 
sleep, in his rough great coat, on the bare boards of the 
deck, while the winds and the waves were roarins round 



LORD BYRON. 33 

him on every side ; and he would subsist on a hard crust 
and a glass of water. In Spain and Greece he under- 
took long journeys on horseback, over rugged and scarcely 
passable roads, reckless of fatigue, and almost insensible 
to the privations which must be endured by travelers in 
semi-barbarous countries. One of his greatest pleasures 
was swimming, and, perhaps, there was no exploit of 
his life of which he spoke with greater pleasure than 
his swimming across the Hellespont, from Sestos to 
Abydos, in imitation of the ancient hero Leander. His 
impressions of the Eastern countries which he visited, 
are found in almost all his writings, as well as " Childe 
Harold;" and most of his tales are founded on incidents 
which he observed in his travels. 

In July, 1811, he returned to England. Mr. Dallas, 
then his literary friend and adviser, having come to visit 
him, the poet put into his hand a " Paraphrase of Hor- 
ace," which he wished to have printed under his super- 
intendence. Finding this a performance of very unequal 
merit and no great extent, Mr. Dallas inquired whether 
he had written nothing else ? Byron replied that he 
had composed several short poems, besides a great num- 
ber of stanzas in the Spenserian measure, descriptive of 
the places he had visited on his travels. Mr. Dallas, 
with some difficulty, induced the poet to show him those 
stanzas, and, at once discovering their immense superi- 
ority over the Paraphrase, persuaded him to complete 
the poem. Before it was quite finished he lost his 
mother, who died rather suddenly, at Newstead. His 
grief for her death, though sincere, was not of long du- 
ration ; he soon returned to London, seemingly with an 
intention of devoting himself to political life. His first 
speech in parliament was delivered on the 27th of Feb- 
ruary, 1812, in opposition to the severe enactments of 
the Nottingham Frame-breaking Bill. It was received 
with great applause by statesmen of all parties ; he told 
Mr. Dallas that he had, by his speech, given the best 
advertisement for " Childe Harold's" pilgrinaage, which 
was published two days after. 

There was probably never any poem which took such 
an immediate and lasting hold on the public mind. He 
says himself, " I awoke one morning and found myself 
3 



34 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

famous." The first edition was soon exhausted ; the 
publisher gave him six hundred pounds for the copyright, 
which he presented to Mr. Dallas, declaring that "he 
would never receive money for his ^vl•itings," a resolu- 
tion which he subsequently abandoned. His pen proved 
as prolific as it was powerful ; the " Giaour," the "Bride 
of Abydos," and the "Corsair," followed each other in 
rapid succession ; and so great was the popularity of the 
latter that 14,000 copies were sold in one day. 

Byron was now at the summit of his popularity ; his 
acquaintance was eagerly sought by statesmen, philoso- 
phers, and men of literature ; and he was followed by 
admiring crowds of the fairer sex. Unfortunately he 
pursued a course of conduct which exposed him to much 
censure ; he ostentatiously disregarded the rules of de- 
corum and propriety ; and though, in this, there was 
probably more of eccenti-icity than of perverted morals, 
he was not the less viewed with misti'ust by those who 
thought that genius, however exalted, could furnish no 
excuse for profligacy. Under these circumstances his 
friends advised him to many ; he renewed his proposals 
to Miss Milbanke, by whom he had been previously re- 
fused, and, on the second occasion, was accepted. The 
maiTiage took place at Seaham, January 22d, 1815 ; 
and, according to the poet's own account, offered little 
promise of mutual happiness. Ten months after the 
marriage Lady Byron gave birth to a daughter, Ada 
(the present Lady Lovelace) ; and this event was, in a 
few weeks, followed by the total separation of the pa- 
rents. Some mystery still hangs over the causes of 
this disunion, which proved to be perpetual. Byi-on 
was connected with the managing committee of Drury- 
lane Theati'e ; and this led him into a course of life 
which his lady, for many reasons, viewed with great 
disapprobation ; they had, for some time, lived beyond 
their income, and the pressing claims of creditors sub- 
jected them to great annoyance and inconvenience. But 
these circumstances do not adequately explain the total 
disruption of domestic ties, and the determination evinced 
that they should never be reunited. It would be idle 
and improper to indulge in any conjectures on the sub- 
ject ; we have only to record that the event produced a 



LORD BYRON. 35 

most fatal influence on the remainder of the poet's ca- 
reer. Shortly after the separation, he produced " Lara," 
the " Siege of Corinth," and " Parisina," which had not 
the same success as his previous publications. He then 
took the dangerous step of making the public a party to 
his domestic dissensions, by publishing the " Sketch 
from Private Life," and the celebrated " Fare-thee- 
well." If he had hoped by this appeal to get the popu- 
lar voice on his side he completely failed ; the general 
impression continued to be in favor of his wite, and, 
conscious of this, he resolved to quit England. Passing 
through France he visited the field of Waterloo, and 
then, ascending the Rhine, entered Switzerland, where 
he became acquainted with Shelley. 

With extraordinary powers of imagination, great sim- 
plicity of character, and a most atfectionate disposition, 
Shelley had rendered himself unpopular by attacking 
the religious creed and the civil institutions of his country. 
His first wife died by her own hand ; he was deprived 
of the guardianship of his two children in consequence 
of his skeptical opinions; and thus, hke Lord Byron 
himself, he had determined to become an exile from 
England, in company with his second wife and her 
children. Similarity of circumstances, and, perhaps, 
some similarity of disposition and opinions, brought the 
two poets together, and laid the foundation of intimate 
friendship. Though we strenuously condemn the na- 
ture and tendency of Shelley's speculative opinions, we 
cannot deny that he was one of the most amiable of 
human beings, and there can be little doubt that he, 
though perhaps unconsciously, infused a portion of his 
own principles into the mind of Byron. 

From Switzerland Lord Byron proceeded to Italy, 
and resided principally at Venice, whence he trans- 
mitted home for publication the third and fourth cantos 
of " Childe Harold,"—" The Prisoner of Chillon,"— 
"Manfred," — "The Lament of Tasso," and many 
minor poems. These greatly increased his literary 
fame ; but they did not redeem the stains which a head- 
long course of licentiousness fixed on his moral character. 
The poet Moore, who visited him at Venice in 1819, 
and who united the courage to the truth of friendship, 



36 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

appears to have remonstrated with him on the danger of 
the course which he pursued ; Byron was so far from 
being offended, that he presented his adviser with the 
manuscript memoirs of his hfe, which were, however, 
subsequently destroyed, as too dangerous to be pub- 
lished. It was in the course of this year that the 
Countess GuiccioU became the avowed mistress of 
Byron. In addition to the other calamities of such a 
connection, the family of the lady involved the poet in 
the troubled politics of Italy, and the hopeless schemes 
for the regeneration of that country. 

Among the poems which Byron produced at Venice, 
was " Beppo," a lively satirical tale, which he is said to 
have finished at a silting. The facility with which this 
was produced, and the great success it obtained, led 
him to plan another poem in the same style ; we mean 
" Don Juan," justly characterized by Moore as " the 
most powerful and, in many respects, painful display of 
the veisatility of genius, that has ever been left for suc- 
ceeding ages to wonder and deplore." Combining some 
of the highest flights of poetry with some of the most 
degrading lessons of sensuality, the cantos of " Don 
Juan" have a tendency to destroy all belief in the reality 
of virtue, by exhibiting the heartlessness of all to whom 
he had attributed pure or noble emotions. The poetic 
merits of the work may be admired, but its vicious ten- 
dencies cannot be too strongly condemned. In the 
interval between 1819 and 1822, Byron produced the 
dramas of " Marino Faliero," — " The Two Foscari," — 
" Sardanapalus," — " Werner," and " The Deformed 
Transformed ;" he also published " Cain, a Mystery," 
and " The Prophecy of Dante." In conjunction with 
Messrs. Hunt and Shelley, he commenced a periodical, 
called " The Liberal," to which he contributed "Heaven 
and Earth, a Mystery," and too celebrated a parody on 
Southey's "Vision of Judgment." The latter produc- 
tion led to a prosecution of the publisher, and the 
periodical was abandoned after the fourth number. 

In July, 1822, Lord Byron lost his friend Shelley, 
who was drowned off the coast of Italy. This sad 
event, and the annoyances to which he was subject 
from his supposed attachment to revolutionary principles, 



LORD BYRON. 37 

induced him to leave Italy, and take up his residence at 
Geneva. He had long felt an interest in the war ol 
Greek independence, and had for some time corre- 
sponded with the leaders of the insurgents ; and he was 
probably weary of the life of sensual indolence he long 
had led, and anxious to exchange it for more stirring 
scenes. Perhaps to these motives was added a lurking 
desire to be restored to the good opinion of his country- 
men, which, while he affected to despise, he ardently 
thirsted for in his secret soul. Whatever were his 
motives, he engaged in the Greek war with all the 
ardor of his impetuous nature ; and, having made the 
best aiTangements of his affairs which circumstances 
would admit, he proceeded to Western Greece. 

In the beginning of January, 1824, Lord Byron 
reached Missolonghi, and was received with the utmost 
enthusiasm; it was believed that his presence would 
ensure the deliverance of the country, and the most 
extravagant opinions were entertained of his influence 
and his resources. His first efforts were directed to 
check the barbarous inhumanity with which the war 
had been previously conducted ; he induced the Greeks 
to release several of their captives, v4iom he sent safe 
to Prevesa, hoping that the Turks might be induced to 
exhibit the same generosity toward their prisoners. 
His attention was next directed to forming a brigade of 
Suliotes, five hundred of whom he had in his own pay, 
designing to lead them to the attack of Lepanto. But 
the insubordination of these fierce mountaineers, the 
want of provisions and the munitions of war, together 
with the mutual disputes of the Greek chiefs, frustrated 
his efforts. These annoyances combined with the un- 
healthy atmosphere of Missolonghi to throw him into a 
fever, which, being neglected in its early stages, soon 
assumed a dangerous type. He displayed great firm- 
ness when conscious of the approach of death, lamenting 
chiefly the impossibility of bidding farewell to his beloved 
child. On the morning of the 19th of April, 1824, he 
expired. 

The death of Lord Byron produced a great and 
mournful sensation throughout the civilized world ; his 
exertions for the liberation of Greece had shaded over 
D 



38 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

his eiTors, and, in the first burst of sorrow for his loss, 
they were quite forgotten. Every token of respect, 
which reverence could suggest, was paid to his remains 
by the authorities of Missolonghi ; they were sent to 
England, and, though refused admission into West- 
minster Abbey, the church near Newstead, where they 
repose, has become a place of pilgrimage for the lovers 
of poetic genius. 

Among the many tributes paid to the memory of the 
departed poet, none is more touching and beautiful than 
that which Sir Walter Scott sent at the time to one of 
the Edinburgh papers. While ample justice is done to 
Byron's merits, his defects are delicately indicated, 
without being palliated or excused. We cannot better 
conclude this sketch, than by quoting this tribute, from 
the greatest of modern Scottish, to the gi'eatest of 
modern English poets. 

" Amidst the general calmness of the political atmos- 
phere, we have been stunned, from another quarter, by 
one of those death-notes which are pealed at intervals, 
as from an archangel's ti'umpet, to awaken the soul of a 
whole people at once. Lord Byron, who has so long 
and so amply filled the highest place in the public eye, 
has shared the lot of humanity. That mighty genius, 
which walked among men as something superior to 
ordinary mortality, and whose powers were beheld with 
wonder, and something approaching to terror, as if we 
knew not whether they were of good or of evil, is laid 
as soundly to rest as the poor peasant, whose ideas went 
not beyond his daily task. The voice of just blame and 
of malignant censure are at once silenced ; and we 
feel almost as if the gi-eat luminary of heaven had sud- 
denly disappeared from the sky at the moment when 
every telescope was leveled for the examination of the 
spots which dimmed its brightness. It is not now the 
question, what were Byron's faults, what his inistakes ; 
but, how is the blank which he has left in British 
literature to be filled up ? Not, we fear, in one genera- 
tion, which, among many highly-gifted persons, has 
produced none which approached Lord Byron in orig- 
inality, the first attribute of genius. Only thirty-six 
years old — so much already done for immortality — so 



LORD BVRO.N. 39 

much time remaiuiug, as it seemed to us shoit-sigliled 
mortals, to maintain and to extend his fame, and to atone 
for errors in conduct and levities in composition, — who 
will not grieve that such a race has been shortened, 
though not always keeping the straight path, — such a 
light extinguished, thougli sometimes flaming to dazzle 
and to bewilder ? One word on this ungrateful subject, 
ere we quit it forever. The errors of Lord Byron 
arose neitlier from depravity of heart — for Nature had 
not committed the anomaly of uniting to such extraor- 
dinary talents an imperfect moral sense — nor from 
feelings dead to the admiration of virtue. No man had 
ever a kinder heart for sympathy, or a more open hand 
for the relief of distress ; and no mind was ever more 
formed for the enthusiastic admiration of noble actions, 
providing he was convinced that the actors had pro- 
ceeded on disinterested principles. Remonstrances 
from a friend, of whose intentions and kindness he was 
secure, had often great weight with him ; but there 
were few who would venture on a task so difficult. 
Reproof he endured with impatience, and reproach 
hardened him in his error ; so that he often resembled 
the gallant war-steed, who rushes fonvard on the steel 
that wounds him. In the most painful crisis of his 
private life, he evinced this irritability and impatience of 
censure to such a degree, as almost to resemble the noble 
victim of the bull-fight, which is more maddened by the 
squibs, darts, and petty annoyances of the unworthy 
crowds beyond the lists, than by the lance of his nobler, 
and, so to speak, his more legitimate antagonist. In a 
word, much of that in which he erred was in bravado, 
and scorn of his censors, and was done, with the motive 
of Dryden's despot, 'to show his arbitrary power.' 

" As various in composition as Shakspeare himself 
(this will be admitted by all who are acquainted with 
his ' Don Juan'), he has embraced every topic of human 
life, and sounded every string on the divine harp, from 
its slightest to its most powerful and heart-astounding 
tones. There is scarce a passion or a situation which 
has escaped his pen ; and he might be drawn like Gar- 
rick, between the weeping and the laughing Muse, 
although his more powerful efforts have certainly been 



40 MODEliN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

devoted to Melpoiiieue. His genius seemed as prolific 
as var'ous. The most prodigal use did not exhaust his 
powers, — nay, seemed rather to increase their vigor. 
Neither ' Childe Harold,' nor any of the most beautiful 
of Byron's earlier tales, contain more exquisite morsels 
of poetry than are to be found scattered through the 
cantos of ' Don Juan,' amidst verses which the author 
appears to have thrown off with an etiurt iis spontaneous 
as that of a tree resigning its leaves to the wind. But 
that noble tree wall never more bear fruit or blossom! 
It has been cut down in its strength, and the past is all 
that remains to us of Byron. We can scarcely reconcile 
ourselves to the idea — scarce think that the voice is 
silent forever, which, bursting so often on our ear, was 
often heard with rapturous admiration, sometimes with 
regret, but ahvays with the deepest interest. 

' All that's bright must fade, 
The brightest still the fleetest.' 

With a sti'ong feeling of awful sorrow w^e take leave of 
the subject. Death creeps upon our most serious as 
well as upon our most idle employments ; and it is a 
reflection solemn and gratifying, that he found our 
Byron in no moment of levity, but contributing his 
fortune, and hazarding his life, in behalf of a people 
only endeared to him by their own past glories, and as 
fellow^ creatures suffering under the yoke of a heathen 
oppressor. To have fallen in a crusade for freedom 
and humanity, as in olden tunes it w^ould have been an 
atonement for the blackest crimes, may, in the present, 
be allow^ed to expiate greater follies than even exag- 
gerating calumny has propagated against Byron," 



GEORGE CANNING. 



Few liven have been so popular in the House of Com- 
mons as Mr. Cunning, and still fewer have won their 
way against greater prejudices. His father, a gentle- 
man of some literary reputation, having offended his 
wealthy family by marrying a lady whose only fault 
was want of fortune, came to London with the hope of 
earning independence at the English bar. He w^as 
received into the society of the leading writers of the 
day, and was induced by Churchill to become a partisan 
of the celebrated John Wilkes. Finding that his suc- 
cess at the bar did not answer his expectations, he 
entered into business, but for this he was ill-quahfied, 
and he died when his son was only twelve months old. 
The boy was born in Marylebone, April 11th, 1770;^ 
his mother had recourse to the stage for the support of 
herself and her infant son, but her success was not 
great, and Canning would probably have been consigned 
to obscurity, had not his paternal uncle, a merchant of 
some eminence, undertaken the charge of his education. 
Perceiving early indications of great talent in the boy, 
he sent him to Eton, where his success was so gi-eat 
that he became senior scholar when only in his fifteenth 
year. During his residence at this school he projected 
and edited a periodical called " The Microcosm," in 
which he was aided by some of his school-fellows, par- 
ticularly J. and R. Smith, Hookham Freer, and Lord 
Robert Spencer. Canning's contributions to this juve- 
nile miscellany display much sprightliness and ready 
wit, but also much immaturity of thought and uncer- 



42 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

tainty of purpose. The best epigram attributed to him 
at this time was written on the appearance of a rival 
publication from Westminster School, with a frontis- 
piece representing both periodicals weighed in a bal- 
ance, the Westminster greatly outweighing its opponent. 
On this Canning wrote — 

"What mean you by this print so rare, 
Ye wits of Eton jealous, 
But that your rivals mount in air, 
And you are heavy fellows ?" 

On quitting Eton, in 1787, Canning entered Christ- 
church, Oxford, where he amply maintained the repu- 
tation he had acquired in Eton. He left the University 
without taking a degree, but through life he retained an 
affectionate regard for Oxford ; and, on one occasion, 
referring to the sacrifices he had made in favor of Cath- 
olic Emancipation, he declared that the most cherished 
object of his ambition had been at one time or other to 
represent the University of Oxford. After quitting the 
University he became a student at Lincoln's Inn ; but 
Sheridan, who was his relation, having introduced him 
to Burke, he was induced to abandon professional stud- 
ies, and prepare himself for political life. It was sup- 
posed that he would have joined the ranks of opposition, 
and Sheridan went so far as to name him in parliament 
as the future and powerful advocate of liberal opinions. 
But from this course he appears to have been early dis- 
suaded by Burke, who at all times disliked Sheridan, 
and who had just separated from Mr. Fox on the ques- 
tion of the French Revolution. Several of Canning's 
friends, both at school and college, were associated with 
Mr. Pitt, and through them he was introduced to the 
premier, then anxious to secure the aid of men of tal- 
ent, to resist the powerful orators who occupied the 
benches of the opposition. Under the auspices of the 
minister, Mr. Canning entered parliament as member 
for Newport, in the Isle of Wight ; but he did not, as 
was expected, present himself early to the notice of 
the House, being anxious previously to make himself 
acquainted with its forms. His first speech was deliv- 
ered in defence of the subsidy grunted to the king of 



GEORGE CANNING. 43 

Sardinia, and it was far fi-om maintaining the high 
expectations that had been formed of his eloquence. 
He assumed the tone of an advocate rather than a 
statesman, and the levity with which he ti-eated Fox 
and the great leaders of opposition, was not unjustly 
regarded as an indiscreet presumption rather than a 
proof of conscious ability. This was, however, a fail- 
ure incidental to the overweening confidence of youth ; 
during the progress of the war, Canning, to whom the 
defence of the ministerial measures, in what may be 
called skirmishing debates, was chiefly intrusted, ac- 
quired the habits and facilities of a ready speaker ; but 
this indiscriminate support of ministerial measures ex- 
posed him to the imputation of being a retained advocate 
rather than a zealous partisan. His entrance into office 
as Under-Secretary of State contiibuted to this impres- 
sion ; the gentleman who was superannuated to make 
room for him was still in the prime of life, and this 
appearance of jobbing in his first official appointment 
injured his fame and weakened his influence. Canning, 
however, was sincere in his ardent attachment to Pitt; 
he enjoyed that minister's confidence, he knew that the 
premier was often coerced into a policy of which he 
disapproved, and he firmly believed that the salvation of 
the country was identified with his patron's ascendency. 
Lord Brougham justly says of this period of Canning's 
life, "He began his career in the most troublous period 
of the storm (arising out of the French Revolution) ; 
and it happened to him, as to all men, that the tone of 
his sentiments upon state affairs was very much influ- 
enced through after-life by the events which first awa- 
kened his ambition or directed his earliest pursuit of 
glory. The atrocities of the French Jacobins — the 
thoughtless violence of the extreme democratic party in 
this country, reduced by those atrocities to a small 
body — the spirit of aggi'ession, which the conduct of her 
neighbors had just revised in France, and which unex- 
ampled victories soon raised to a pitch that endangered 
all national independence — led Mr. Canning, with many 
others who were naturally friendly to liberty, into a 
course of hostility towards all change, because they 
became accustomed to confound reform with revolution, 



44 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

auJ to dread nothing so much as the mischiefs which 
popular violence had produced in France, and with which 
the march of Frauch conquests threatened to desolate 
Europe. Thus it came to pass, that the most vigorous 
and active portion of his life was spent in opposing all 
reforms ; in patronizing the measures of coercion into 
which Mr. Pitt had, so unhappily for his fame and for 
' his country, been seduced by the alarms of weak and by 
the selfish schemes of unprincipled men ; and in resist- 
ing the attempts which friends of peace persevered to 
make for terminating hostilities, so long the curse, and 
still, by their fruits, the bane of the empire." 

In 1799, Mr. Canning distinguished himself by his 
able advocacy of the legislative union between England 
and Ireland ; in the discussions that ensvied, he exhib- 
ited great dexterity in evading the question of Catholic 
Emancipation, though it is tolerably certain that on this 
subject he agreed with Mr. Pitt, believing that Ireland 
could not be firmly united to England, so long as a ma- 
jority of its inhabitants remained subject to disqualifica- 
tions which kept them a distinct body, outside the pale 
of the British constitution. During the same year Can- 
ning married a lady of wealth, whose fortune insured 
him political independence, while her connection with 
the Down and Portland families greatly increased his 
political importance. About the same time, in con- 
nection with Ellis and Freer, he established the " Anti- 
jacobin Review," a periodical of great abilitj% but in the 
management of which, the violence and malignity of 
party were even more conspicuous than the talent. 
Among Canning's contributions, two still survive — ^liis 
"Loves of the Triangles," a clever parody on Darwin's 
forgotten poem of " The Loves of the Plants," and the 
mock tragedy of " The Rovers," in which the extrava- 
gances for which the German drama was then conspic- 
uous, were very happily ridiculed. 

On the resignation of Mr. Pitt, in 1801, Canning re- 
tired with his patron from office. Whatever may have 
been Mr. Pitt's real design in aba^idoning the guidance 
of affairs to Addington — whether he sought this as a 
means of evading the Catholic question, or whether h© 
wished to evade the necessity of concluding peace with 



GEORGE CANNING. 45 

France, which was now unavoidable — it is certain that 
Canning, from the very beginning, regarded the change 
with great dislike, and secretly exerted himself to sever 
Pitt from the new administration. He did not wait for 
the open quarrel, but assailed Addington with poetical 
squibs and lampoons, even while he voted for his meas- 
ures. When Mr. Pitt avowedly went into opposition, 
Canning still more pointedly attacked Addington's feeble 
administration, and, both in verse and prose, endeav- 
ored, not without success, to persuade the nation that 
the only hope for the successful management of the 
renewed war rested on Mr. Pitt's return to power. On 
this occasion he wrote the popular song in which Mr. 
Pitt was celebrated as "The Pilot that weathered the 
storm," a production which had much more success 
than its poetical merits justified. Mr. Canning's con- 
duct at this crisis has been very severely criticised: and 
it must be confessed that some of his speeches and lam- 
poons displayed more of sarcasfic talent than of good 
feeling or good taste ; but his efforts to effect Pitt's 
restoration were not connected with any schemes for 
his own aggrandizement, since, on the restoration of his 
patron to power, he was contented with the inferior 
post of Treasurer of the Navy, which did not give him 
a seat in the cabinet. The subsequent reconciliation 
between Pitt and Addington, which was mainly effected 
by the intervention of the king, placed Canning in an 
awkward situation, since he had to serve under one, 
who, with the title of Lord Sidmouth, had become Pres- 
ident of the Council, for whose conduct and abilities he 
had expressed the utmost scorn and contempt. He 
stood by Pitt in his strenuous but unavailing effort to 
avert the impeachment of Lord Melville; and he endeav- 
ored to revive his courage when the disasters of the 
allies on the continent dissolved the coahtion which he 
had devoted all his energies to form. Mr. Pitt's death 
broke up his ministry ; but it left Mr. Canning free to 
act without a master, and from this time forward his 
political course began to assume the character of self- 
dependence, the want of which had been previously its 
greatest defect. 

The new ministry, formed on the death of Pitt, which 



46 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

received the nickname of "All the Taleats," was formed 
from three parties, no two of which had been accus- 
tomed to act together ; the leaders of these parties were 
Lord Grenville, Lord Sidmouth, and Mr. Fox, men who 
had few interests and still fewer sentiments in common. 
Canning led the opposition against this apparently for- 
midable phalanx, and his pertinacious attacks are said to 
have hastened Fox's death ; the same hostility was ex- 
hibited to Lords Grey and Grenville, who continued the 
administration, and when they were finally dismissed 
from office, Canning exulted over them in some poetica' 
effusions which reflected little credit on his powers, and 
still less on his integiity. In fact, he was himself, but 
to a far greater extent, guilty of the very conduct he had 
condemned in them. Though a conscientious friend to 
Catholic Emancipation, he accepted office as Secretaiy 
for Foreign Affairs in the cabinet formed by Spencer 
Percival, though that cabinet was pledged to the most 
bitter hostility against the Catholic claims. On this 
subject Lord Brougham observes: "Mr. Canning rea- 
soned himself into a belief, which he was wont to pro- 
fess, that no man can serve his country with effect out 
of office, as if there were no public in this country ; as 
if there were no parliament — no forum — no press; as if 
the government were in the hands of a vizier, to whom 
the Turk had given his signet ring, or a favorite, to whom 
the czarina had thrown her handkerchief; as if the 
patriot's vocation and the voice of public virtue were 
heard no more ; as if the people were without power 
over their rulers, and only existed to be taxed and obey ! 
A more pernicious maxim never entered the mind of a 
public man, nor one more fitted to undermine his public 
virtue." 

Canning did not find his position as minister so favor- 
able to his projects of serving his country as he had anti- 
cipated ; his counsels had little influence with the govern- 
ment, while his office compelled him to defend meas- 
ures in public of which he disapproved in private. This 
discrepancy between his speeches and his real senti- 
ments was soon detected by the opposition, and they 
now bitterly retorted the sarcasms with which he had 
annoyed them during their brief tenure of office. Im- 



GEORGE CANNING. 47 

patient of such a position, Canning threatened to resign, 
unless the cabinet should be modified and strengthened, 
particularly insisting on the removal of the Secretary at 
War, Lord Castlereagh, with whom, as Foreign Secre- 
tary, he frequently came into collision. These circum- 
stances becoming known to Lord Castlereagh, he ac- 
cused his colleague of treachery and duplicity; a duel 
ensued, in which Mr. Canning was wounded, but !,^efore 
going out to fight he had resigned his office. It was 
expected at the time that Mr. Canning would have 
joined the ranks of opposition, but he was unwilling to 
put in jeopardy his chances of return to office, and, 
though his exclusion lasted longer than he had probably 
expected, he took care to manifest no signs of anger or 
disappointment. 

Immediately after the assassination of Mr. Percival, 
in 1812, Lord Liverpool, by the election of his colleagues, 
was placed at the head of the ministry, and as he was 
personally attached to Mr. Canning, he offered him a 
seat in the Cabinet. The overture was rejected in 
consequence of the reluctance of the ministers to take 
into consideration the state of the Catholic question ; 
but the House of Commons having addressed the Prince 
Regent " to form a strong and efficient administration," 
his royal highness confided the task to the Marquis of 
Wellesley and Mr. Canning. They entered into negotia- 
tion with Lord Liverpool on one side, and with Lords 
Grey and Grenville on the other ; but finding it impos- 
sible to prevail on the former to undertake the settle- 
ment of the Catholic claims, or on the latter to agree to 
a strenuous prosecution of the war in Spain, they re- 
signed their commission. Mr. Canning shortly after- 
ward brought forward a motion in the House of Com- 
mons, which was carried by a majority of 129, that the 
House would early in the next session take into its most 
serious consideration, the state of the law affecting the 
Catholics. This pledge was fulfilled : a bill of emanci- 
pation was introduced, and by the exertions of Grattan, 
Plunkett, Canning, and several other statesmen, it was 
carried Iriumphantly through the earlier stages, but the 
most important clause having been defeated in commit- 
tee, the measure was abandoned. Though opposed to 



48 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

the course of policy adopted by the majority of the cab- 
inet on this question, Mr. Canning strenuously supported 
them in the more vigorous prosecution of the war, to 
which they were incited by the successes of Wellington 
in Spain, and the disasters of Napoleon in Russia ; 
though not in place, he gave such vigorous support to 
the administration, that the premier might almost have 
regarded him as a colleague. A Httle after Napoleon's 
abdication, Mr. Canning resolved to visit Lisbon, for the 
purpose of restoring his eldest son to health by a change 
of climate. Lord Liverpool immediately proposed to 
him to go to Lisbon as ambassador, for though there 
was then neither court nor sovereign in Lisbon, it was 
expected that the Prince Regent of Portugal would 
return from his exile in Brazil, to rule in his native land. 
This expectation was not fulfilled ; and though Mr. 
Canning at the end of a year resigned the embassy, he 
was very severely censured for having accepted what 
proved to be a sinecure office. 

On his return to England in 1816, Mr. Canning found 
the country in a state of great distraction and distress, 
both mainly arising from a deficient supply of food, pro- 
duced by the joint operation of the corn-laws and a bad 
harvest. A large and increasing party sought a remedy 
for the evil in such a sweeping reform of parliament as 
the ministers and most of the landed gentry believed 
equivalent to an overthrow of the constitution ; and as 
Mr. Canning was a steady opponent of reform, he was 
again invited to take a share in the government. His 
personal difterences with Lord Castlereagh were easily 
arranged, and the Catholic question was declared to be 
a matter on which each member of the government 
might vote according to his individual opinion. It would 
be veiy painful and not very interesting to enter into 
any examination of the violence displayed in the Radical 
agitation of 1817 and 1819, or of the measures of repres- 
sion adopted by the government. Mr. Canning placed 
himself in the van of the battle, and assailed the plans 
of the Radicals with as much severity as he displayed 
spirit in defending the conduct of the government. His 
conduct on this occasion was bitterly assailed both within 
and without the walls of Parliament ; nor must it be con- 



GEORGE CANNING. 49 

cealed that lie had indulged in some incautious expres- 
sions, which were fairly open to censure. More abund- 
ant supplies of food, and, as a necessary consequence, a 
great increase of trade and employment, did more to 
restore public tranquillity than acts of coercion, and the 
Radical agitation faded away in the sunshine of return- 
ing prosperity. 

The death of George III. in- 18-20, raised a hew agi- 
tation of a different and more perplexing character : the 
Prince of Wales had separated from the princess, with 
a fixed and avowed determination ne-ver to meet her 
again in public or in private. She had taken advantage 
of the peace to go abroad, and the reports which were 
current of her conduct on the Continent, accused her of 
the most open profligacy. Unfortunately, at the mo- 
ment of the king's accession, the ministers w^ere obliged 
to pronounce sentence on the queen's conduct without 
any formal investigation, for they had to determine 
whether her name should be inserted or omitted in the 
Liturgy. It was decided that her name should be 
omitted, upon which she resolved to come to England 
and demand a trial : this was a step for which the min- 
isters were unprepared, and her arrival in England 
threw the cabinet into a state of painful perplexity. 
Two days after her landing a message was sent from 
the king to Parliament, accompanied by a green bag of 
documents, the contents of which w^ere to be referred 
to secret committees, for the purpose of inquiring 
whether there w^ere any grounds for further proceed- 
ings. 

On a former occasion Mr. Canning had been the con- 
fidential adviser of the Princess of Wales, and he had 
on many occasions spoken of her in terms of respect and 
regard. So soon as he found that it was resolved to 
proceed against the queen by a bill of pains and penal- 
ties, he tendered his resignation, which, however, the 
king refused to receive, but he gave Mr. Canning per- 
mission to withdraw from any share in the proceedings 
against her majesty. Mr. Canning, in consequence, 
went on the Coeitinent ; but this was not his only motive 
for seeking a change. In the preceding March he had 
lost his eldest son, a youth of extraordinary promise and 



50 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

merit. The verses which the afflicted father caused 
to be inscribed on the monument that covered the be- 
loved remains are, perhaps, the most touching specimen 
of paternal grief that was ever sculptured in marble. 
They are as follows : — 

" Though short thy span, God's unimpeach'd decrees 
Which made that shorten'd span one long disease, 
Yet, merciful and chastening, gave thee scope 
For mild, redeeming virtues, ifaith and hope ; 
Meek resignation ; pious charity ; 
And, since this world is not a world for thee. 
Far from thy path remov'd, with partial care. 
Strife, glory, gain, and pleasure's flowery snare ; 
Bade earth's temptations pass thee harmless by, 
And fixed on Heaven thine unreverted eye. 

Oh ! mark'd from birth and nurtured for the skies 
In youth with more than learning's wisdom wise ! 
As sainted martyrs, patient to endure ! 
Simple as unwean'd infancy, and pure ! 
Pure from all stain (save that of human clay 
Which Christ's atoning blood hath wash'd away !) 
By mortal sufferings now no more oppress'd. 
Mount, sinless spirit, to thy destined rest ! 
Whilst I, revers'd our nature's kindlier doom. 
Pour forth a father's sorrows on thy tomb." 

When the ti'ial of the queen was brought to an abrupt 
close, Mr. Canning returned to England, and to avoid 
taking any part in the debates which were certain to 
follow, again tendered his resignation of the Presidency 
of the Board of Control, which was reluctantly accepted. 
This was no sooner known at the India House than the 
Court of Directors unanimously voted an address, ex- 
pressive of their regret at his retirement, and the senti- 
ments of the directors were subsequently adopted by a 
resolution of the Court of Proprietors. Such an hon- 
orable testimony is without a parallel in the history of 
the Company. While out of office, Mr. Canning car- 
ried in the House of Commons a bill for restoring Cath- 
olic peers to their hereditary privileges, but it was lost 
in the House of Lords. His able administi-ation of Indian 
affairs was not forgotten when the retirement of the 
Marquis of Hastings rendered it necessary to appoint a 
new Governor General for India. This high office was 



GEORGE CANNliNG. 51 

tendered to Mr. Canning, and accepted ; preparations 
were made for his departure, and lie went down to Liv- 
erpool, which he had represented for ten years, to take 
leave of his constituents. His reception was trium- 
phant ; many of those who had been his most violent 
opponents took occasion to show their respect for his 
virtues and his tfdents ; and never, perhaps, were mu- 
tual displays of feeling more honorable to a representa- 
tive and a constituency. 

The whole aspect of public affairs was suddenly 
changed by the suicide of the Marquis of Londonderry, 
who, as Lord Castlereagh, had often been brought into 
contact and contrast with Canning as a rival and a col- 
league. Public opinion nominated Canning to the 
office of Foreign Secretary thus vacated, the moment 
that the event was known. Lord Liverpool had been 
long anxious to have the aid of such an able colleague ; 
but there were many difficulties to be overcome, for 
Canning was dishked by many )nembers of the cabinet, 
and his conduct on the queen's trial had given some 
offence to the king. He was, moreover, himself dis- 
posed to proceed to India, as had been arranged, believ- 
ing that his power, being there unimpeded, could be 
exerted most beneficially for the prosperity of the Bri- 
tish empire. It was not until the 16th of September 
that Mr. Canning received the seals of office from the 
king, and from that day there appeared a marked change 
in the foreign policy of the country. At this period the 
great continental powers, united in what was called the 
Holy Alliance, had resolved to suppress by force the 
efforts that were made to substitute constitutional for 
absolute government in various parts of Europe. A 
French army was preparing to invade Spain, for the 
purpose of restoring the despotic authority of Ferdi- 
nand ; and efforts were made to bring a Russian army 
into western Europe, to check all encroachments on 
monarchical power. Spain and Naples had been revolu- 
tionized ; a constitutional government had been estab- 
lished in Portugal ; Germany was agitated ; Greece 
was in open insurrection against the Turks ; France 
was discontented ; and, beyond the Atlantic, the Spanish 
colonies of South America had thrown off the yoke of 



52 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

the mother countiy. At snch a crisis the destinies of 
the world seemed to depend on the course of foreign 
pohcy adopted by England. If her weight was thrown 
into the scale of the allied sovereigns, despotism seemed 
likely to be restored, and a sudden check given to all 
political improvement; on the other hand, if England 
joined the revolutionary party, it would have been 
scarcely possible to avert the calamities of a general 
war. Under these circumstances, Mr. Canning adopted 
the middle course of mediating between the conflicting 
principles, and asserting national independence for each 
state. The invasion of Spain could not be averted, but 
the recognition of the independence of the republics of 
Mexico, Columbia, Buenos Ayres, and the other states 
formed out of the old Spanish colonies, more than coun- 
teracted the effect of the success which the French 
had obtained. Mr. Canning also took every means of 
showing, that the forcible restoration of Ferdinand to 
despotic power by the French arms was disapproved 
by England, and that our neutrality in the contest arose 
from no dictation or fear, but from a prudent considera- 
tion of all the circumstances. An opportunity for this 
exposition was offered when he was presented with the 
freedom of the borough of Plymouth, and the speech 
which he made on the occasion created a profound sen- 
sation in Europe. The following passage in this mem- 
orable oration will be, as it deserves to be, inmiortal : — 

" The resources created by peace are the means of 
war. In cherishing these resources, we but accumulate 
those means. Our present repose is no more a proof 
of inability to act than the state of inertness and inactiv- 
ity in which I have seen those mighty masses* that 
float in the waters above your town, is a proof that they 
are devoid of strength, and incapable of being fitted out 
for action. You well know, gentlemen, how soon one 
of those stupendous masses, now reposing on their 
shadows in perfect stillness — how soon, upon any call of 
patriotism or of necessity, it would assume the likeness 
of an animated thing, instinct with life and motion — how 
soon it would ruffle, as it were, its swelling plumage ; 
how quickly it would put forth its scattered elements of 
* Ships of war laid up in ordinary. 



GEORGE CANNING. 53 

strength, and awaken its dormant thunder. Such as is 
one of those magnificent machines, when springing 
from inaction into a display of its might; such is Eng- 
land herseh', while, apparently passive and motionless, 
she silently concentrates the power to be put forth on 
an adequate occasion. But God forbid that that occa- 
sion should arise !" 

Mr, Canning's return to office under a premier op- 
posed to Catholic Emancipation exposed him to some 
severe censure, and he was harshly attacked by Mr. 
Brougham in the House of Commons : irritated beyond 
control, he directly charged his assailants with falsehood, 
and a painful scene of explanations followed. But as 
Canning's course of foreign policy became developed, 
the liboal party in the House of Commons began to 
view his course with favor, and gave him efficient sup- 
port on several occasions. The ameliorations intro- 
duced by Mr. Huskisson into our fiscal code, by which 
many onerous restrictions on foreign commerce were 
removed, received the ardent support of the foreign 
secretary. In one of these debates he thus described 
his idea of the duty of a statesman : — ■ 

" I consider it to be the duty of a British statesman, 
in internal as well as external affairs, to hold a middle 
course between extremes ; avoiding alike the extrava- 
gances of despotism, or the licentiousness of unbridled 
freedom ; reconciling power with liberty — not adopting 
hasty or ill-advised experiments, or pursuing any airy 
and unsubstantial theories ; not rejecting, nevertheless, 
the application of sound and wholesome knowledge to 
practical affairs, and pressing, with sobriety and caution, 
into the service of his country, any generous and liberal 
principles, whose excess, indeed, may be dangerous, 
but whose foundation is in truth. This, in my mind, 
IS the true conduct of a British statesman ; but they 
who resist indiscriminately all improvements, as inno- 
vations, may find themselves compelled to submit to 
innovations, although they are not improvements." 

It was, however, on the occasion of sending a British 

expedition to Portugal, the constitution of which was 

menaced by the Spanish Absolutists, that Mr. Canning's 

vigor in action and eloquence in debate shone most con- 

e2 



54 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

spicuous. The troops were on their march to the 
place of embarkation two days after the intelligence of 
the Spanish invasion arrived, and Mr. Canning con- 
cluded a speech of unrivaled power with the following 
noble peroi^ation : — "Let us fly to the aid of Portugal, 
by whomsoever attacked, because it is our duty to do 
so ; and let us cease our interference where that duty 
ends. We go to Portugal, not to rule, not to dictate, 
not to prescribe constitutions, but to defend and to pre- 
serve the independence of an ally. We go to plant the 
standard of England on the well-known heights of Lis- 
bon. Where that standard is planted, foreign dominion 
shall not come." 

On the 5th of Januaiy, 1827, the Duke of York, 
whose opinions on the Catholic question made him the 
political enemy of Mr. Canning, sank under an attack of 
long and painful illness. At his funeral Canning caught 
a severe cold, from the effects of which he never per- 
fectly recovered, and, while still confined to his room, 
he learned that the premier, Lord Liverpool, had been 
attacked with a fit of apoplexy, which reduced him to a 
state of total insensibility. At this crisis the Catholic 
question was brought before the House of Commons, 
and Canning, though far from being i estored to health, 
supported it with more than his usual zeal and eloquence ; 
the motion was, however, lost by a majority of four. 
Lord Liveriwol's recovery appearing hopeless, Mr. 
Canning was empowered by the king to reconstruct the 
administration, and to assume, himself, the rank of 
premier, with the oflfices of First Lord of the Treasuiy 
and Chancellor of the Exchequer. The Duke of Wel- 
lington, Lord Eldon, Mr. Peel, and other anti-Catholic 
members of Lord Liverpool's government, inmiediately 
resigned, and their places were temporarily supplied by 
personal friends of Mr. Canning, it being understood 
that a portion of the Whig party should form part of 
the administration at the end of the session. During 
his brief career as premier, Mr. Canning underwent 
many mortifications ; his measure for modifying the 
corn-laws was defeated in the House of Lords, by the 
influence of the Duke of WeUington, and a new scale 
of duties substituted, which he thoroughly disapproved. 



GEORGE CANNING. 55 

It was, however, declared that this important subject 
should be brought before parliament in the ensuing ses- 
sion, but that session the premier was not destined to 
behold. Immediately after the prorogation his health 
rapidly declined, and on the 20th of July he went to 
the Duke of Devonshire's villa at Chiswick, for change 
of air. On the 3d of August his disease assumed a 
form which deprived the physicians of hope, and on the 
8th he expired. Few statesmen have been more gen- 
erally lamented ; a peerage was conferred on his widow, 
a large sum was raised by private subscription, for erect- 
ing a monument to his name, and his funeral, though 
private, was attended by hundreds who sincerely mourned 
his loss. The lines written on the funeral by Lord 
Morpeth, equally honorable to tlie living and the dead, 
will appropriately terminate our account of this gi'eat 
orator and statesman : — 

" I stood beside his tomb ; no choral strain 
Peal'd through the aisle, above the mourning train ; 
But purer, hoUer, seem'd to rise above 
The silent sorrow of a people's love. 

No banner'd scroll, no trophied car was there ; 
No gleaming arms, no torches' murky glare : 
The plain and decent homage best defin'd 
The simple tenor of his mighty mind. 

His hard-earned, self-acquired, enduring fame 
Needs not what wealth may buy or birth may claim ; 
His worth, his deeds, no storied urns confine — 
The page of England's glory is their shrine. 

Are others wanting ? Mark the dawn of peace 
That gilds the struggle of regenerate Greece ; 
On Lisbon's heights see Britain's flag unfurl'd, — 
See Freedom bursting o'er an infant world. 

Ask ye how some have loved, how all revere ? 
Survey the group that bends around his bier ; — 
Read well the heaving breast, the stifled moan, — 
Kings with their kingdoms could not win that groan." 



EARL OF CHATHAM. 



Although the Earl of Chatham can hardly be re- 
garded as a contemporaiy of the illustrious men whose 
lives are recorded in this volume, most of whom be- 
longed to a later generation, yet the authority which 
his influence and example had with most succeeding 
statesmen, the impulse he gave to parliamentary elo- 
quence, and the public spirit which he excited in the 
nation, produced such permanent effects, that we must 
pay rather a disproportionate share of attention to his 
illusti'ious career. He was born in Westminster, Nov. 
15, 1705; his father was a respectable Cornish gentle- 
man, of moderate fortune. He perceived the early in- 
dications of talent in William, w4io was a younger son, 
and sent him to Eton, from whence, after the usual 
course of study, he removed to Oxford. The death of 
his father so reduced his means that he did not take his 
degi-ee at the university, but after a short tour on the 
Continent entered the army as a cornet of horse. In 
the year 1735, he obtained a seat in Parliament as mem- 
ber for Old Sarum, a borough belonging to his relative, 
Lord Camelford. 

At this time. Sir Robert AValpole held the office of 
premier, and was supported by the whole authority of 
the court, and by large majorities in Parliament. His 
administi-ation had been useful rather than briUiant ; his 
great object was to preserve the peace of Europe, and, 
by the aid of Cardinal Fleury, the prime minister of 
France, he was perfectly successful. A strong opposi- 
tion had been formed, however, against Walpole ; it 



EARL OF CHATHAM. 57 

included all the Tory party, more especially those who 
retained a lingering affection for the house of Stuart — 
a large body of discontented Whigs, who thought that 
they had not obtained their fair share of the emolu- 
ments of office — and the personal friends of Frederic 
Prince of Wales, who had long been at variance with 
his royal father. Pitt joined the ranks of opposition, 
without, however, formally adhering to any of the par- 
ties into which it was divided ; he professed to act as an 
independent patriot, a character at all times difficult to 
maintain, but which at this period of our history was 
scarcely intelligible to the nation. The severity with 
which Spain enforced the monopoly of its ti-ade with its 
colonies, and the claims she made to vast tracts of land 
between Mexico and the British settlements in North 
America, had been the source of frequent disputes with 
Great Britain. Walpole, anxious for peace, concluded 
a convention with the court of Madrid, on terms which 
were thought derogatory to the honor of the British 
people. Pitt, whom Walpole had aheady designated as 
"the terrible cornet of horse," took the lead in denoun- 
cing this convention. Few questions could have been 
better suited to a young and enthusiastic orator : the 
freedom of the seas, the might and right of the British 
flag,' the jealousy of Spain, and her inhuman policy, 
were subjects that have always excited the English 
people. These topics, urged with unusual fervor and 
unrivaled eloquence, produced a powerful effect, and 
shook the minister's power to its foundation. Spain did 
not fulfil the terms of the convention, and Walpole was 
forced to declare war at a time when the nation was ill- 
prepared for hostilities. Several losses of merchant- 
ships, captured by Spanish cruisers, so increased the 
minister's unpopularity, that the opposition ventured to 
propose his impeachment, but the motion was rejected 
by a large majority. This victory was, however, the 
herald of defeat ; the conduct of the war continued to 
be disgi'aceful to the administi'ation, and it was generally 
believed that the interests of England had been sacri- 
ficed to gratify the king's partiality for the electorate of 
Hanover. Early in 1742 it became evident that the 
minister could no longer calculate on a majority in the 



58 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

House of Commons ; on the 28th of Januaiy he was left 
in a minority, and immediately after resigned office. 
Pitt, Littleton, the Grenvilles, and some other young 
members whom Walpole had been accustomed to ridi- 
cule as " the boy patriots," wished to have a parliamen- 
tary inquiry into the conduct of the fallen minister ; Pitt 
was particularly vehement ; he insisted on reviving the 
impeachment, he denounced the favor shown to Hano- 
ver, and even proposed that no standing army should 
be maintained in time of peace. But Pulteney, and 
the Pelhams, who succeeded Walpole, Avere unwilling 
to proceed to such extremes. On the contrary, they 
tacitly adopted the very course of policy which they had 
previously condemned, and they were denounced as ren- 
egades by Pitt and his associates. 

The old Duchess of Marlborough was so pleased with 
the spu'it of the young statesman, that she bequeathed 
him ten thousand pounds, as she declared, "upon ac- 
count of his merit in the noble defence he has made for 
the support of the laws of England, and to prevent the 
ruin of his country." 

George H. was much displeased by the attacks that 
had been made on his Hanoverian pohcy, and the main- 
tenance of a standing army. Pitt was informed that he 
must make concessions on both points before he could 
be admitted to office, and he soon showed that he was 
not unwilling to court the royal favor by large sacrifices 
of opinion, and perhaps of principle. He vindicated the 
interference of England in continental affairs, he aban- 
doned the claim to the exemption from search for British 
ships when found on the coast of South America, which 
he had been the most sti-enuous in maintaining against 
Sir Robert Walpole ; and he no longer showed any 
constitutional jealousy of a standing army. On the latter 
point, the dangerous rebellion of 1745 may very fairly 
excuse a change of sentiment. His pliancy was re- 
warded by the Pelhams, who now directed the admin- 
istration ; he was appointed Vice-Treasurer of Ireland, 
and soon after Paymaster-General. 

The Duke of Newcastle was an ambitious but not a 
clever man ; his brother, however, Mr. Henry Pelham, 
hnd many of the most eminent qualities of a statesman, 



EARL OF CHATHAM. 59 

and the petty intrigues of the duke gave him gi'eat grief 
and annoyance, but he remonstrated against them in 
vain. Pitt %yas frequently invited to act as a mediator 
in these fraternal quarrels, so that on the death of Mr. 
Pelham, in 1754, he had some expectations that the 
Duke of Newcastle would offer him the place of Secre- 
tary of State. He vented his disappointment by oppos- 
ing the ministerial measures, without however resigning 
office, and in this unusual course he was supported by 
Mr. Legge, the Chancellor of the Exchequer. " Mr. 
Pitt," says Horace Walpole, in one of his letters, "h-as 
f'jroke with the Duke of Newcastle on the want of power, 
and has alarmed the dozing House of Commons with 
some sentences, extremely in the style of his former 
Pittites.'''' He was, in consequence, dismissed from 
office, together with his friends, Mr. Legge and George 
Grenville. Having once more taken his place in oppo- 
sition, Pitt assailed the Newcastle ministry with une- 
qualed force. The reports of parliamentary proceed- 
ings, at this period, were so imperfect that no reliance 
can be placed upon their accuracy ; we shall therefore 
quote from Walpole's amusing letters, an account of his 
appearance in one of these debates. " I never heard as 
much wit as in a speech with which Mr. Pitt concluded 
the debate t'other day on the treaties. His antagonists 
endeavor to disarm him, but as fast as they deprive him 
of one weapon he finds a better ; I never suspected him 
of such a universal armory. I knew he had a Gorgon's 
head, composed of bayonets and pistols, but little thought 
he could tickle to death with a feather. On the first 
debate on these famous treaties, last Wednesday, Hume 
Campbell, whom the Duke of Newcastle had retained 
as the most abusive counsel he could find against Pitt 
(and, hereafter, perhaps against Fox), attacked the for- 
mer for eternal invectives. Oh ! since the last philippic 
of Billingsgate memory you never heard such an invec- 
tive as Pitt returned ! Hume Campbell was annihilated. 
Pitt, like an angry wasp, seems to have left his sting in 
the wound, and has since assumed a style of delicate 
ridicule and repartee. But think how charming a ridi- 
cule must that be, that lasts, and rises, flash after flash, 
for an hour and a half! Some day or other, perhaps. 



60 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

you will see some of the glittering splinters that I gath- 
ered up." 

The Duke of Newcastle vainly made overtures of re- 
conciliation to Mr. Pitt ; the unpopularity of the admin- 
istration increased so rapidly, that the king was obliged, 
much against his will, to form a new cabinet, in which 
the Duke of Devonshire was nominally premier, and 
Pitt, Legge, and Grenville, the most influential members. 
Pitt exerted himself with gi-eat vigor to remedy the losses 
that the English had sustained in America, and he hon- 
orably endeavored to save Admiral Byng, who was sac- 
rificed to popular clamor. But his exertions were inter- 
rupted by the personal animosity of the king ; Pitt, 
Legge, and Earl Temple were deprived of office, and 
for several weeks the country was virtually without an 
administration. But, though unceremoniously removed 
by the king, Pitt was now idolized by the country. Ad- 
dresses of approbation were sent to him from all parts of 
the kingdom, and he was " borne back to the cabinet on 
the shoulders of the people.'' He resumed his old office 
as secretary, w^ith the power of premier, leaving to the 
Duke of Newcastle the name and patronage of First 
Lord of the Treasury. 

Although this administi-ation was the most brilliant 
part of Pitt's career, yet his first measures were badly 
contrived, and worse executed. Three successive ex- 
peditions against the sea-ports of France led to very 
inadequate results, and the first attempts to repair the 
disasters in America were unsuccessful. It was, how- 
ever, his good fortune to find admirals and generals able 
to comprehend the extent of his plans ; Hawke and 
Howe amply retrieved the naval honors of Britain ; and 
AVolfe, whom Pitt had himself brought forward, won 
on-e of the most glorious victories, at Quebec, that ever 
gi-aced the British arms, but, unfortunately, fell on the 
field of battle. In three years the popular statesman 
raised England from depression and despondency, into 
a situation to give laws to Europe, and, during that time, 
he converted into confidence and favor the obstinate dis- 
like with which he had been previously regarded by 
George II. 

With the accession of George III. a new favorite, the 



EARL OF CHATHAM. 61 

Earl of Bute, rose into power. He persuaded the 
young king that the continuance of the war was unne- 
cessary ; but, as recent victories had rendered it popu- 
lar, he did not venture to recommend an immediate 
commencement of negotiations. In the mean time Pitt 
had discovered that a secret treaty, known in history as 
the " Family Compact," had been concluded between 
the courts of France and Spain, in which it was stipu- 
lated that both should consider every power as their 
common enemy, who should become the enemy of the 
other. He represented to his colleagues, that Spain 
was only waiting for the arrival of her annual Plate fleet 
from South America to declare war, and he therefore 
proposed that we should anticipate her by declaring war 
ourselves, seizing her treasure-ships before they could 
reach Europe, and attj^kding her chief colonies before 
preparations could be 'made for resistance. The king 
aud the majority of the cabinet rejected this bold propo- 
sal ; Pitt resigned, declaring that he "would not be re- 
sponsible for measures which he was no longer allowed 
to guide," but he gi'eatly injured his popularity by ac- 
cepting a pension of 3,000Z. a-year for himself, and the 
title of Baroness Chatham for his lady. Horace Walpole, 
in a letter to Marshal Conway, very fairly expresses the 
general feeling with which the pension and peerage 
were regarded. 

" It is very lucky that you did not succeed in the ex- 
pedition to Rochfort. Perhaps you might have been 
made a peer, and as Chatham is a naval title, it might 
have fallen to your share. But it was reserved to crown 
gi-eater glory : and, lest it should not be substantial pay 
enough, three thousand pounds a-year, for three lives, 
go along with it. Not to Mr. Pitt — you caU't suppose 
it. Why, truly, not the title, but the annuity does, and 
Lady Hester is the baroness ; that if he should please 
he may earn an earldom himself. Don't beheve me, if 
you have a mind ; I know I did not believe those who 
told me. But ask the Gazette, that swears it — ask 
the king, who has kissed Lady Hester — ask the city of 
London, who are ready to tear Mr. Pitt to pieces — ask 
foity people I can name, who are overjoyed at it — and 
then ask me again who am mortified and who have been 
F 



62 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

the dupe of his disinterestedness. Oh, my dear Harry ! 
I beg you, on my knees, keep your virtue : do let me 
think there is still one man upon earth who despises 
money. I wrote you an account last week of his resig- 
nation. Could you have believed that in four days he 
would have tumbled from the conquest of Spain to re- 
ceiving a quarter's pension from Mr. West ? To-day 
he has advertised his seven coach-horses to be sold. 
Three thousand a-year for three lives, and fifty thou- 
sand pounds of his own, will not keep a coach and six. 
I protest I believe he is mad, and Lord Temple thinks 
so too ; for he resigned the same morning that Pitt ac- 
cepted the pension. George Grenville is minister in 
the House of Commons. I don't know who will be 
Speaker. They talk of Prowse, Hussey, Bacon, and 
even of old Sir John Rushout. Delaval has said an ad- 
mirable thing : he blames Pitt — not as you and I do, 
but calls him a fool ; and says, if he had gone into the 
city, told them he had a poor wife and children unpro- 
vided for, and had opened a subscription, he would have 
got five hundred thousand pounds instead of three thou- 
sand pounds a-year. In the mean time the good man 
has saddled us with a war which we can neither carry 
on, nor carry oflf. 'Tis pitiful ! 'tis wondrous pitiful ! 
Is the communication stopped, that we never hear from 
you ? I own 'tis an Irish question — I am out of humor : 
my visions are dispelled, and you are still abroad. As 
I cannot put Mr. Pitt to death, at least I have buried 
him : here is his epitaph : — 

Admire his eloquence — it mounted higher 
Than Attic purity or Roman lire . 
Adore his services — oar hons view, 
Ranging where Roman eiiLjIes never flew ; 
Copy his soul, supreme o'er Lucre's sphere ; 
But, oh ! beware three thousand pounds a-year !" 

Many months had not elapsed before the ministers 
found it absolutely necessary to declare war against 
Spain, and adopt, when too late, the measures which 
Pitt had recommended. Though the war was success- 
fully conducted, Bute continued anxious to bring it to a 
conclusion. A general peace was effected by the treaty 
of Paris, signed February 10th, 1763, by which Canada, 



EARL OF CHATHAM. 63 

and other French possessions in America, were ceded 
to England. Pitt assailed this treaty in the most un- 
measured terms. His censure was far more severe 
than just ; and, though the peace was for some time 
unpopular, all desire for the renewal of the war soon 
faded away. Pitt was again invited to take office ; but 
he disapproved of the degrading contest into which the 
court had entered with John Wilkes, and he Avas jealous 
of the secret influence which Lord Bute was supposed 
to exercise over the deliberations of the cabinet. When 
the question of General Warrants was brought forward, 
Pitt took the lead in pronouncing their condemnation. 
His vigorous advocacy of constitutional principles, on 
this occasion, restored him to the position in popular 
favor, which he had nearly forfeited by his acceptance 
of a pension ; and in January, 1765, he received a second 
unconnnon testimony of respect for his public services 
from Sir William Pynsent, an aged baronet of ancient 
family, in Somersetshire, who bequeathed to him his 
entire property, amounting to c£2,000 a-year. 

When Mr. Grenville brought forward his fatal measure 
for taxing the American colonies, Mr. Pitt was prevented 
by illness from attending the House of Commons. He 
took, however, an early opportunity of protesting against 
a plan which he deemed equally impolitic and unconsti- 
tutional ; he asserted that " the British Parliament had 
no right to tax America, that country not being repre- 
sented in the House of Commons." He was answered 
by Mr. George Grenville, who said, " Look into Magna 
Charta ; you will see we have a right to tax America ; 
and that all laws are enacted by the Commune Concilium 
Regni:' Mr. Pitt begged to be indulged a few words 
in reply. 

" Though the gentleman," said he, " is armed at all 
points with Acts of Parliament, yet I will venture to 
say, that if he was to take the three first Avords that he 
might find in a dictionary, they would be full as much 
to the purpose, as his Commune Concilium Regni. Does 
he consider that, at the time he speaks of, the barons 
had all the land — though, indeed, the church, God bless 
it! had then a third, when the bishops, miti-ed abbots, 
and such things, had influence ? I laugh, sir, I laugh. 



64 M013ERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

when it is said this countiy cannot coerce America ; but 
will you do it upon a point that is intricate, and in a mat- 
ter of right that is disputed ? Will you, after the peace 
you have made, and the small pittance of the fishery that 
is left you. — will you sheathe your swords in the bowels 
of your brothers, the Americans ? You may coerce 
and conquer ; but when they fall, they will fall like the 
strong man embracing the pillars of the Constitution, 
and bury it in ruin with them. Gentlemen may double 
down Acts of Parliament until they are dogs-eared, it 
will have no effect upon me ; I am past the time of life 
to be turning to books to know whether I love liberty 
or not. There are two or three lines of Prior, applica- 
ble to the present question, supposing America in the 
situation of a wife : they are these, where he says, — 

' Be to her faults a little blind, 
Be to her virtues very kind, 
And clap the padlock on her mind.' " 

As these sentiments coincided with those of the Mar- 
quis of Rockingham, to whom, in Juty, 1765, the king 
gave the charge of forming an administration, it was 
naturally supposed that the two statesmen would cor- 
dially unite in extricating the country from the difficul- 
ties into which it had been plunged by the Grenville 
policy. But Pitt obstinately refused to join the mar- 
quis ; and, without going into open opposition, he exhib- 
ited a coldness, not to say a hostihty, to the Rockingham 
cabinet, which produced very prejudicial consequences 
to the country. Disliked by the king, and slighted by 
the great leader of the people, this patriotic cabinet fell 
to pieces from its own inherent weakness, and Pitt 
reached the utm.ost limit of ambition in being commis- 
sioned by the king to form a ministry, without the small- 
est limitation as to terms. 

This summit of eminence was attained in July, 1766, 
but the result was equally fatal to Mr. Pitt's glory and 
happiness. Lord Rockingham and his friends, resenting 
the unworthj^ treatment they had received, refused to 
lend him any assistance ; Earl Temple, hitherto his 
firmest associate, believed himself slighted, and with- 
drew, so that the new administration was a motlev mix- 



EARf. OF rHATHAM. 65 

ture of men of all purties, without any definite principle 
of union. Not the least surprising part of the arrange- 
ments was, that he took for himself the insignificant 
office of Privy Seal, and quitted the House of Commons, 
the theatre of his glory, to sit in the House of Lords as 
Earl of Chatham. The remarks which Horace Wal- 
pole has made on this event, are equally valuable for 
historic fidelity and vigorous expression : — 

" The glory with which the late ministers retired 
was half of it plucked from the laurels of the new Earl 
of Chatham. That fatal title blasted all the atiection 
which his country had borne to him, and which he had 
deserved so well. Had he been as sordid as Lord North- 
ington, he could not have sunk lower in the public es- 
teem. The people, though he had done no act to occa- 
sion reproach, thought he had sold them for a title ; and, 
as words fascinate or enrage them, their idol Mr. Pitt 
was forgotten in their detestation of the Lord Chatham. 
He was paralleled with Lord Bath, and became the 
object at which were shot all the arrows of calumny. 
He had borne above the obloquy that attracted his former 
pension — not a mouth was opened now in defence of his 
title ; as innocent as his pension, since neither betrayed 
him into any deed of servility to prerogative and despot- 
ism. Both were injudicious ; the last irrecoverably so. 
The blow was more ruinous to his country than to him- 
self. While he held the love of the people, nothing 
was so formidable in Europe as his name. The talons 
of the lion were drawn, when he was no longer awful 
in his own forests. 

" The city of London had intended to celebrate Mr. 
Pitt's return to employment, and lamps for an illumina- 
tion had been placed round tlie Monument. But no 
sooner did they hear of his new dignity, than the festi- 
val was counter-ordered. The gi-eat engine of this dis- 
satisfaction was Lord Temple, who was so shameless as 
to publish the history of their breach, in which he be- 
trayed every private passage that Mr. Pitt had dropped 
in their negotiation and quarrel, which could tend to 
inflame the public or private persons against him." 

His health was at this time greatly impaired by re- 
peated attacks of gout, so that it was impossible for him 
5 F'^> 



GG MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

to exercise that superintendence over public affairs 
which had rendered his former administration so vigor- 
ous and so glorious. Surrounded by men who had no 
attachmeiit to each other, and very little to him, he 
found himself incapable of exertion under circumstances 
which w^ould have required his utmost energies at the 
time of their highest perfection. Much was done in his 
name, against which he would have protested, but for 
which he was held responsible by the nation. The at- 
tempts to tax America w^ere unhappily renewed ; the 
financial affairs of the counti'y became deranged : the 
ministry got involved in a quarrel with the East India 
Company, and in these perplexities Lord Chatham 
w^ould neither lend assistance nor offer an opinion. At 
length he resigned office, October 15th, 1768, and had 
the mortification to find that this event scarcely attracted 
a passing notice. It had long been expected by his col- 
leagues ; it was little regarded by the people of Great 
Britain ; it was almost unknown on the continent of Eu- 
rope. 

A few months of repose restored the health, and with 
it, the vigor of the statesman. He became heartily 
reconciled to the Rockingham party ; and, in 1770, ap- 
peared as leader of the opposition in the House of Lords. 
He assailed the proceedings of the House of Commons 
against Wilkes ; denounced the attempt to tax America, 
and proposed a measure of parliamentaiy reform by 
disfranchising the rotten boroughs, and making a cor- 
responding increase in the county representation. Find- 
ing, however, that his influence was much weakened, 
and his remonstrances little regarded, he withdrew 
himself in a great measure from public life ; but when 
the war with America threatened fatal consequences, 
he came down to the House, swathed in flannel, to move 
an address to the king, imploring him to take effective 
measures to put a stop to hostilities. " You may rav- 
age," said he : " you cannot conquer — it is impossible — 
you cannot conquer the Americans. You talk of your 
numerous friends to annihilate the Congress, and of 
your powerful forces to dispel their army. I might as 
well talk of driving them before me with this crutch. 
What you have sent there are too many to niake peace, 



EARL OF CHATHAM. G7 

too few to make war. If you conquer them, — what 
then ? You cannot make them respect jou, — you can- 
not make them wear your cloth ; you will plant an invin- 
cible hatred in their breasts against you. Coming from 
the stock they do, they can never respect you." And, 
at a subsequent period, in the same year, he said, " I 
love and honor the English troops : I know their vir- 
tues and their valor ; I know they can achieve anything 
but impossibilities ; and I know that the conquest of 
English America is an impossibility." His prophetic 
warnings were disregarded ; but the repeated disasters 
of the royal army compelled the ministers to yield ; 
and, in February, 1778, Lord North announced the 
resolution of government to concede everything that the 
Americans demanded, except their national independ- 
ence. On this point the opposition was divided. The 
Marquis of Rockingham and his followers were of opin- 
ion that the Americans had in fact won their independ- 
ence, and that, since they could no longer be retained 
as subjects, it was better to recognize them as allies, 
than to suffer them to throw themselves into the arms 
of France. The earls of Shelburne and Chatham re- 
garded such a dismemberment of the empire as a pre- 
lude to the ruin and degradation of the country. The 
Duke of Richmond having given notice of his intention 
to move an address for the recognition of American 
Independence, the Earl of Chatham came for the last 
time to the House of Lords, April 7th, 1778, a day 
memorable for the most affecting scene ever witnessed 
within the walls of Parliament. From the narratives 
of those who were eye-witnesses, we have prepared 
a description of an event which has no parallel in 
history. 

When Chatham appeared in the House, great sensa- 
tion was excited by the ravages which age and sickness 
had made in his constitution ; he came wrapped up 
in flannel, supported by two friends, feeble, pale, and 
emaciated. He looked like a dying man, yet never 
was seen a figure of superior dignity. The Duke of 
Richmond brought forward his motion in a speech of 
great temper and ability ; he Was briefly opposed by 
Lord Weymouth, one of the secretaries of state, and 



G8 MODERN BRITISH n.UTARCII. 

then every eye was turned to Lord Chatham. He 
rose from his seat with slowness and difficulty, leaning 
on his crutches, and supported under each arm by his 
friends. Taking one hand from his crutch, and raising 
it, he looked up to heaven and exclaimed, " I thank 
God that I have been enabled to come here this day to 
perform my duty, and to speak on a subject which has 
so deeply impressed my mind. I am old and infirm ; 
have one foot — more than one foot, in the grave. I am 
risen from my bed to stand up in the cause of my 
country, perhaps never again to speak in this House." 
The reverence, the attention, and the stillness of the 
House during the delivery of this affecting exordium, 
were most remarkable. His tones, at first, were low 
and feeble, but, as he gi-ew warm, his voice rose and 
became as powerful and harmonious as ever. " My 
lords," said he, " I rejoice that the grave has not closed 
upon me; that I am still alive to lift up my voice 
against the dismemberment of this ancient and most 
noble monarchy ! Pressed down, as I am, by the hand 
of infirmity, I am little able to assist my country in this 
most perilous juncture ; but my lords, while I have 
sense and memory, I will never consent to deprive the 
royal offspring of the House of Brunswick, the heirs of 
the Princess Sophia, of their fairest inheritance. Where 
is the man that will dare to advise such a measure ? My. 
lords, his majesty succeeded to an empire as great in 
extent as its reputation was unsullied. Shall we tarnish 
the lusti'e of this nation by an ignominious surrender of 
its rights and fau-est possessions? Shall this gi-eat king- 
dom, that has survived, whole and entire, the Danish 
depredations, the Scottish inroads, and the Norman 
Conquest — that has stood the threatened invasion of 
th« Spanish Armada — now fall prosti'ate before the 
House of Bourbon ? Sm-ely, my lords, this nation is 
no longer what it was ! Shall a people that, fifteen 
years ago, were the terror of the world, now stoop so 
low as to tell their ancient, inveterate enemy, ' Take all 
we have, only give us peace !' It is impossible ! I wage 
war with no man or set of men. I wish for none of 
their employments ; nor would I cooperate with men 
who still persist in unretracted error, — who, instead of 



EARL OF CHATHAM. 69 

acting on a firm, decisive line of conduct, halt between 
two opinions, when there is no middle path. In God's 
name, if it is absolutely necessary to declare either for 
peace or war, and the former cannot be preserved with 
honor, why is not the latter commenced without hesita- 
tion ? I am not, I confess, well informed of the re- 
sources of this kingdom, but, I trust, it has still sufficient 
to maintain its just rights, though I know them not ; 
but, my lords, any state is better than despair. Let us, 
at least, make one effort, and, if we fall, let us fall like 
men!" 

This splendid peroration to a long and argumentative 
speech, produced a powerful effect on the House ; it 
in'itated and disconcerted the Duke of Richmond, whose 
reply was at once passionate and feeble. When he con- 
cluded, Chatham rose agam ; his emotions proved too 
powerful for his frame : he fell, in convulsion, into the 
arms of the peers who surrounded him, and the debate 
was immediately adjourned. On the following day the 
Duke of Richmond's motion w^as negatived. Lord 
Chatham was conveyed to his country seat at Hayes, 
where he lingered until the 16th of May, when he 
expired. His memory was honored with a public 
funeral and a public monument in Westminster Abbey ; 
20,000L were voted by Parliament for the payment of 
his debts, and a pension of 4000L a-year was annexed 
to the earldom of Chatham. 

The character of this illustrious statesman has been 
so admirably drawn by the Earl of Chesterfield, that we 
shall extract it as a suitable conclusion to this sketch of 
his career. " His constitution refused him the usual 
pleasures, and his genius forbade him the usual dissi- 
pations of youth ; for, so early as the age of sixteen, he 
was the martyr of an hereditary gout. He therefore 
employed the leisure, which that tedious and painful 
distemper either procured or allowed him, in acquiring 
a great fund of premature and useful knowledge. Thus, 
by the unaccountable relation of causes and effects, what 
seemed the greatest misfortune of his life, was, perhaps, 
the principal cause of its splendor. His private life was 
stained by no vice, nor sullied by any meanness. All 
his sentiments were liberal and elevated. His riiliuji 



70 IVIODEIIN BlUTISJI PLUTARCH. 

passion was an unbounded ambition, which, where 
supported by great abilities and crowned with gi'eat 
success, makes what the world calls a gi-eat man. He 
was haughty, imperious, impatient of contradiction, and 
overbearing, — qualities Avhich too often accompany, but 
always clog, great ones. He had manners and address, 
but one might discover through them too great a con- 
sciousness of his own superior talents. He was a most 
agi'eeable and lively companion in social life, and had 
such a versatility of wit that he would adapt it to all 
sorts of conversation. He had, also, a happy turn for 
poetry, but he seldom indulged, and seldom avowed it. 
He came young into Parliament, and upon that theatre 
he soon equaled the oldest and the ablest actors. His 
eloquence was of every kind ; and he excelled in the 
argumentative as well as in the declamatory way. But 
his invectives were terrible, and uttered with such 
energy of diction, and such dignity of action and counte- 
nance, that he intimidated those who were the most 
willing and best able to encounter him. Their arms 
fell out of their hands, and they shrank under the 
ascendant, which his genius gained over theirs." 



DR. ADAM CLARKE. 



Dr. Adam Clarke, the most learned of modern 
commentators on the Holy Scriptm-e, was the son of 
the parish schoolmaster of the little village of Moybeg, 
in tlie north of Ireland, where he was born about the 
year 1760. His parents brought him up very hardily, 
accustoming him from infancy to bear exposure to the 
vicissitudes of the seasons, and to take abundant exer- 
cise in the open air. His constitution was thus gi-adu- 
ally strengthened, and his powers of endurance became 
fitted for the labors of his future life. At school, his 
early progi-ess was very slow ; his first attempts to 
master any difficulty were repeatedly unsuccessful; 
but he had the determination to persevere, and what- 
ever he acquhed he ever afterward retained. He was 
passionately fond of reading, and devoted all the time 
he could spare from school, or the labors ot the tarm, 
to devouring every book of amusement or instruction on 
which he could lay his hand. When he was about the 
aae of sixteen, the preaching of Mr. Barber, a zealous 
and intelligent member of the Methodist connection, 
produced such an etfect on his mind, that he embraced 
the doctrines of that body, and abandoned the ordinaiy 
indulgences of youth to cultivate rehgious knowledge. 
His intellectual studies were not neglected; he behoved 
that religion was intimately connected with learnmg and 
science ; indeed, his own experience taught him, that 
every advance in piety was accompanied by an increased 
capacity for acquiring general information. 

It was the intention of his parents to put him mto 



/;::; AlODEilN LJUniSH FLUTARCll. 

business ; ntit a friend having written an account of his 
character and pursuits to the Eev. John Wesley, that 
excellent man offered to receive him into Kingswood 
School, that he might qualify himself for the office of a 
Methodist preacher. 

On an-iving at Liverpool, he very naiTowly escaped 
from impressment, and his remembrance of the danger 
be had escaped made him a firm opponent of this 
system of recruiting the navy. Kingswood School was 
at this time kept by Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, who were 
harsh, uncharitable, and severe, and who, consequently, 
were not disposed to give a kindly welcome to a raw 
lad from the north of Ireland, who presented himself 
at thei-r door, soiled by travel, and having only three 
half-pence in his pocket. The harsh treatment be 
received would have driven a person of weaker mind 
to despair ; but he endured it patiently until the arrival 
of Mr. Wesley, who expressed a favorable opinion of 
his acquirements, led to some improvement. It was at 
Kingswood that Clarke first commenced his oriental 
studies ; a half-guinea, which he picked up in the 
garden, and for which no owner could be found, 
enabled him to purchase a Hebrew gi-ammar ; and it 
is no wonder that, when he subsequently viewed the 
great results of his studies, that he was led to regard 
the finding of the half-guinea as a special interposition 
of Providence. 

In September, 1782, being only in his eighteenth 
year, and looking still younger, Adam Clarke com- 
menced his career as an itinerant preacher, at Brad- 
ford, in Wilts. Though his boyish appearance was at 
first rather unfavorable to the efficacy of his insti'uc- 
tions, when his acquirements began to be better appre- 
ciated, curiosity was excited to hear the youthful 
preacher and many "who came to scoff remained to 
pray." The few moments that could be spared from 
tbe laborious duties of his circuit were devoted to study, 
until an injudicious associate blamed him for bestowing 
attention upon human learning. The scruple thus 
suggested withdrew the young man for souie time from 
the study of the classics ; but Mr. Wesley having 
recommended him to preserve whatever knowledge 



DR. ADAM CLARKE. 73 

he had acqmred, he resumed his studies with fresh 
ardor. 

The hardships which itinerant preachers had to endure 
at this period were of the most painful nature ; the 
salary from which they had to provide books and clothes 
was only twelve pounds per annum ; most of the con- 
gregations were poor, and many members who could 
afford contributions were very slow in rendering aid. 
Besides, the Methodists were unpopular, and the lives 
of the preachers were frequently exposed to the fury 
of angiy multitudes. Adam Clarke had a full share of 
danger and distress, but his labors as a preacher were 
not interrupted, neither was his study of biblical litera- 
ture discontinued. Being sent as a missionary to the 
Channel Islands, he obtained a little more leisure than 
he had enjoyed on circuit ; he devoted himself to ori- 
ental studies, and his progress was truly astonishing. 
A little before this he had been married to Miss Cooke, 
whose gentle, affectionate disposition cheered him in 
his studies, and comforted him when he was weary. 

In August, 1790, Mr. Clarke visited Dublin as a dele- 
gate to the Irish from the English Conference. While 
in the metropolis of his native country he founded the 
Strangers' Friend Society, a benevolent and highly 
useful institution, the rules and plan of which have been 
adopted in almost all of the great towns of the empire. 
At the same time he became eager to acquire the 
elements of medical science, and, having entered himself 
as a student in Trinity College, he attended the usual 
courses of lectures. His proficiency in these studies 
was probably not great ; but some of the notes in his 
Commentary display considerable knowledge of chem- 
istry. 

In the year 1796, Mr. Clarke, having been appointed 
to the London Circuit, which afforded him large literary 
opportunities, began to make collections for his Com- 
mentary. He continued this labor as opportunities 
offered at the different places whither he was sent, and 
did not relax during the years 1798 and 1799, when 
England was afflicted with scarcity, and he and his 
young family had to endure a full share of the general 
distress. His erudition began to be generally known, 



74 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARf H. 

and on the formation of the Bible Society he became a 
member of the committee. His extensive knowledge of 
the oriental languages was now called into active exercise, 
and his services in revising translations were deemed so 
important, that an official request was made to the Con- 
ference that he should be permitted to remain in London, 
instead of being transferred from a metropolitan to a 
provincial circuit, according to the general rule. This 
request was of course granted, and his labors of transla- 
tion were resumed with fresh energy : offers of remu- 
neration were made to him by the Bible Society, but 
he refused to receive any reward. The Senate of the 
University of Aberdeen, however, confeiTod upon him 
the honorary title of Doctor of Laws, without solicitation 
and without fees. 

It is not our purpose to enter into any details of Dr. 
Clarke's exertions as a Methodist preacher ; these would 
only be interesting to the members of that connection, 
and in some cases might involve points of controversy. 
We need only mention, that he was indefatigable in the 
discharge of the duties he had undertaken, and particu- 
larly zealous in promoting missionary exertions, both by 
influence and example. He made several tours in 
Ireland, and always showed himself anxious for the 
spiritual welfare of his native land ; he twice visited the 
remote Shetland Isles, and exerted himself to procure 
spiritual instruction for this remote and to some extent 
neglected portion of the British population. 

Having been appointed by the Commissioners of Public 
Records to superintend the publication of the state papers 
designed to continue Rymer's Foedera, Dr. Clarke ex- 
hibited h's critical sagacity in detecting the falsifications 
of historical documents ; he completely exposed the 
forgery of the letter pretended to have been sent from 
the Chief of the Assassins, or, as he was usually called 
in the middle ages, the Old Man of the Mountain, to 
Richard Coeur de Lion, which many able wi-iters had 
accepted as authentic. His friends soon observed that 
his labors had become too gi-eat for his health, Lnd 
honorably united in a subscription to purchase for him 
the estate of Millbrook, near Liverpool, whither he 
retired in 1815. Here his biblical researches were 



Dll. ADAM CLARKE. 75 

continued with sucli zeal and success, that several 
learned bodies, including the Koyal Hibernian Academy 
and the Royal Asiatic Society, enrolled him among 
their members. In 1824 he sold Millbrook and re- 
turned to London, where the last years of his life were 
spent in tranquil study, only interrupted when his 
labors abroad were likely to advance charity or promote 
piety. He died in September, 1832, regretted by a 
wide circle of acquaintance, and by all who felt an 
interest in biblical criticism and oriental literature. 

Dr. Clarke's great work is his Commentary on the 
Bible, and it is a rare example of sagacity and erudition, 
uniformly maintained through a work that was the 
labor of years. No difficulty is ever evaded ; where 
difficulties arose, the investigations of the commentator 
were unwearied, and the results honestly stated. It 
cannot be supposed that all his conclusions will be im- 
plicitly received ; but those who differ from him most 
must confess, that his opinions were the result of pro- 
found thought, tested by the most extensive and laborious 
inquiry. 



LORD CLIVE. 



The history of British India is without a parallel in 
the annals of mankind. It is not a hundred years ago 
since " the company of British merchants trading with 
the East Indies" possessed nothing more than a few 
ports favorably situated for commerce, held at the will, 
or rather the caprice of the native princes, and defended 
against commercial rivals by miserable fortifications, 
which could not have resisted any serious attack. Now 
British sovereignty in India extends over an empire 
gi-eater than that possessed by Alexander, oi- the Ca?sars, 
and probably superior to both in the amount of its wealth 
and population. The chief agent in raising the East 
India Company from a trading association to a sovereign 
power was Lord Clive, whose own elevation was 
scarcely less marvelous than that of the empire which 
he founded. 

Robert Clive was born September 29th, 1725 ; his 
father was a country gentleman, of moderate fortune 
and still more moderate caj^acity, who cultivated liis 
own estate in Shropshire. When a boy, the future 
hero of India distinguished himself chiefly by wild 
deeds of daring and courage, neglecting the opportunities 
of storing his mind with information, the want of which 
he bitterly felt in after-life. His violent temper, and 
his neglect of study, led his family to despair of his 
success at home, and, in his eighteenth year, he was 
sent out as a "writer," in the service of the East India 
Company, to the Presidency of Madras. In our day 
such an appointment would be considered a fair provision 



LORD CI.TVr, 77 

for a young man, holding out, besides, a reasonable 
prospect of obtaining competency, if not fortune ; but 
when Clive went to the East, the younger "writers," 
or clerks, were so badly paid, that they could scarcely 
subsist without getting into debt, while their seniors 
enriched themselves by trading on their own account. 
The voyage out, from England to Madras, which is now 
effected in three or four months, occupied, at that time, 
from six months to a year. Clive's voyage was more 
than usually tedious ; the ship was detained for a con- 
siderable period at the Brazils, where he picked up some 
knowledge of Portuguese, and contracted some heavy 
debts. This apparent misfortune had the good effect of 
compelling him to reflect on his situation. He avoided 
all amusements- and dissipation, but availed himself of 
the resources of the governor's library, which was 
liberally opened to him in his hours of leisure. He, 
however, felt himself unhappy, for his occupations were 
unsuited to his tastes, and he longed for an opportunity 
of finding a mode of life more congenial to his dis- 
position. 

The war of the Austrian succession, in which George 
n. took the side of the empress, while the French king 
supported her competitor, extended to the eastern wodd. 
Labourdonnais, the governor of the French colony in 
the Mauritius, suddenly appeared before Madras, and, 
as the town and fort were not prepared for defence, both 
were surrendered on honorable terms. But Dupleix, 
the French governor of Pondicherry, denying the right 
of Labourdonnais to gi-ant any terms, refused to ratify 
the capitulation, and directed Madras to be razed to the 
ground. With still greater disregard for public faith, 
he led the English who had capitulated through the 
town of Pondicherry, as captives gi-acing his triumphal 
procession, in the presence of fifty thousand spectators. 
Clive escaped this outrage by flying from Madras in 
disguise; he took refuge at Fort St. David, a settlement 
subordinate to Madras, where he obtained from Major 
Lawrence, one of the best offlcers then in India, an 
ensign's commission in the service of the company. 

Peace between England and France having been es- 
tablished, Madras was restored to its former owners. 
g2 



7S MODERN BRITISH rLUTARril. 

Clive, However, did not return to his civil pursuits ; he 
occasionally acted as a writer, but he was more fre- 
quently employed as a soldier in the petty hostilities 
which arose between the English and the natives. 
Events, however, were now in progress, which made 
the French and English East India Companies com- 
petitors for an empire, though neither understood the 
value of the prize for which they contended ; and Clive, 
fortunately for his countiy and himself, was almost 
forced to take the position of a military commander. 

To explain fully the position of India, at this period, 
would take far more pages than we can afford lines ; a 
very brief sketch, may, however, help our readers to 
comprehend the course of events. India, in its entire 
extent, was nominally governed by the Emperor of 
Delhi, or, as he was generally, though absurdly, called 
in Europe, "the Great Mogul." Under him were 
several viceroys, each of whom ruled over as many 
subjects as any of the great sovereigns of Europe ; and 
the delegates of these viceroys had a wider extent of 
territory than is included in most of the minor states of 
Germany. Tliis empire began to lose its unity toward 
the close of the seventeenth century. The different 
viceroys, while professing a nominal allegiance to the 
crown of Delhi, established a substantial independence ; 
several of their immediate vassals treated them as they 
had done the emperor; and several warlike tribes took 
advantage of this disorganization, to plunder the defence- 
less provinces. Of these the most formidable were the 
Mahrattas, whose name was long the terror of the 
Peninsula. 

Dupleix, whose name has already been mentioned as 
the French governor of Pondicheriy, was the first who 
conceived the possibility of establishing an European 
dominion on the ruins of the Delhi empire ; and, for 
this purpose, he wisely resolved to attempt no direct 
conquest, but to place, at the head of the different 
principalities, men who owed their elevation to his aid, 
and whose continuance in power would be dependent 
on his assistance. With this view he supported a 
claimant to the viceroyalty of the Deccan, and another 
to the subordinate government of the Carnatic ; or, as 



LORD OLIVE. 79 

the Indians term it, a rival Nizam, and a rival Nabob, 
against the princes already in possession of these terri- 
tories. His efforts were equally splendid and successful ; 
the competitors whom he had selected became masters 
of the kingdom, and he, as the bestower of such mighty 
prizes, began to be regarded as the gi-eatest authority 
in India. The English were struck with astonishment, 
and, as there was peace with France, they were at a 
loss to determine on the line of conduct that they ought 
to pursue. Mohammed Ali, whom the English recog- 
nized as Nabob of the Carnatic, was reduced to the 
possession of the single town of Trichinopoly, and even 
that was invested by Chunda Sahib, the rival nabob, 
and his French auxiliaries. Under these circumstances 
Clive proposed to the Madras authorities the desperate 
expedient of seizing on Arcot, the capital of the Car- 
natic, and thus recalling Chunda Sahib from the siege of 
Trichinopoly. With a force of two hundred Europeans 
and three hundred Sepoys, under eight officers, four of 
whom had been taken from the counting-house, Clive 
surprised Arcot in the midst of a terrific storm, and the 
garrison fled without striking a blow. Being reinforced 
by large bodies of troops, the expelled garrison, swelled 
to the amount of three thousand men, formed an en- 
campment near the town ; but Clive took them by 
surprise in the night, slew gi-eat numbers, put the rest 
to flight, and returned to his quarters without a single 
casualty. 

Chunda Sahib sent ten thousand men, including one 
hundred and fifty French soldiers, under his son, Rajah 
Sahib, to recover Arcot. Clive's little garrison endured 
a siege of fifty days against this disprojjortionate force, 
and against the pressure of famine, which was early 
and severely felt. Nothing in history is equal to the 
proof of devotion which the native portion of this gal- 
lant little band gave to their beloved commander ; the 
Sepoys came to Clive with a request that all the grain 
should be given to the Europeans, who required more 
nourishment than the natives of Asia, declaring that they 
would be satisfied with the thin gruel which strained 
away from the rice. Rajah Sahib at length made an 
attempt to take the place by storm : he was defeated 



80 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

with great loss, principally by Clive's personal exertions, 
upon which he abandoned the siege, leaving behind him 
a large quantity of military stores. 

Clive followed up his victory with great vigor, and the 
government of Madras, encouraged by his success, re- 
solved to send him with a strong detachment to reinforce 
the garrison of Trichinopoly. Just at this conjuncture, 
however, Major Lawrence returned from England, and 
assumed the chief command. If Clive was mortified by 
the change, he soon overcame his feelings ; he cheer- 
fully placed himself under the command of his old friend, 
and exerted himself as strenuously in the second post 
as when he held the chief command. The French had 
no leaders fit to cope with the two friends, and the Eng- 
lish triumphed everywhere. The besiegers of Trichi- 
nopoly were themselves besieged, and compelled to 
capitulate. Chunda Sahib fell into the hands of the 
Mahrattas, and was put to death at the instigation of his 
rival. The forts of Covelong and Chingleput were taken 
by Clive, though his forces consisted of raw recruits, lit- 
tle better than an undisciplined rabble. Dupleix, how- 
ever, was not driven to despair, but still sought means 
of renewing the contest. 

After the capture of Chingleput, Clive returned to 
Madras, where he married Miss Maskelyne, sister to 
the Astronomer Royal, and immediately after returned 
to England. He was received with great honors by the 
Court of Directors, and, through the influence of Lord 
Sandwich, obtained a seat in Parliament; but his elec- 
tion having been set aside, he again turned his thoughts 
towards India, where both the Company and the Gov- 
ernment were eager to avail themselves of his services. 
The Directors appointed him governor of Fort St. David ; 
the king gave him the commission of a lieutenant-colonel 
in the British army ; and thus doubly authorized, he re- 
turned to Asia in 1755. 

The first service on which he was employed after his 
return to the East was the reduction of the stronghold 
of Gheriah. This fortress, built on a craggy promon- 
tory, and almost surrounded by the ocean, was the den 
of a pirate named Angi'ia, whose ships had long been 
the terror of the Arabian seas. Admiral Watson, who 



LORD CLIVE. 81 

commanded the English squadron, bm-ned Angi-ra's 
fleet, while Chve attacked the fastness by land. The 
place soon fell, and a booty of a hundred and fifty 
thousand pounds sterling was divided among the con- 
querors. 

About two months after Clive had entered on his gov- 
ernment at Fort St. David, intelligence was received of 
the destruction of the English settlement at Calcutta 
by Surajah Dowlah, the Nabob of Bengal. Although 
scarcely any resistance had been made, the English 
prisoners, one hundred and forty-six in number, were 
all thrust into a close and narrow apartment called the 
Black Hole, which, in such a climate, would have been 
too close and too narrow for a single prisoner. Their 
sufferings during the dreadful night, until death put an 
end to the misery of most, cannot be described ; one 
hundred and twenty-three perished before morning, and 
the survivors had to be dug out of the heap formed by 
the dead bodies of their companions. 

The authorities at Madras, on receiving this intelli- 
gence, resolved to avenge the outrage ; nine hundred 
Europeans, and fifteen hundred Sepoys, under the com- 
mand of Clive, were embarked on board Admiral Wat- 
son's squadron ; the passage was rendered tedious by 
adverse winds, but the armament arrived safely in Ben- 
gal. Clive proceeded with his usual promptitude ; he 
routed the garrison which the nabob had placed in Fort 
William, recovered Calcutta, and took Hoogley by 
storm. Surajah Dowlah, who was as cowardly as h-e 
was cruel, now sought to negotiate peace, but at the 
same time he secretly urged the French to come to his 
assistance. This duplicity could not be concealed from 
Clive and Watson. They determined accordingly to 
attack Chandernagore, the chief possession of the French 
in Bengal, before the force there could be strengthened 
by new arrivals either from the South of India or Europe. 
Watson directed the expedition by water ; Clive by 
land. The success of the combined movements was 
rapid and complete. The fort, the garrison, the artil- 
lery, the military stores, all fell into the hands of the 
English, and near five hundred European troops were 
among the prisoners. 
6 



82 MODERIV BRITJSH PLUTARCH. 

A less liouorable scene of treachery and intrigue was 
now opened : while Clive, through his agent, Mr. Watts, 
professed the most friendly feelings towards Surajah 
Dowlah, he secretly encouraged a conspiracy for de- 
throning the nabob, and raising Meer Jaffier to the 
government of Bengal. One of the chief agents in this 
plot was a wealthy Hindoo merchant, named Omichund, 
who had suffered hea\y losses when Calcutta was taken 
by the nabob, and who now sought compensation. 
Omichund waited till the plot was nearly ripe ; then, 
when the lives of all the conspirators w^ere at his mercy, 
— when a single word, whispered to Surajah Dowlah, 
would have ruined all, — he resolved to take advantage 
of his situation and make his own terms. He demand- 
ed three hundred thousand pounds as the price of his 
secrecy, and insisted that an article touching his claims 
should be inserted in the ti'eaty between the English and 
Meer Jaffier. Clive met him with equal treachery : he 
had two ti'eaties prepared, one on white paper, the 
other on red ; in the former, which was real, Omi- 
chund's name was not mentioned ; i-n the latter, which 
was fictitious, and prepared only to deceive the Hindoo, 
the promised stipulation was inserted. Admiral Wat- 
son scrupled to sign the deceptive document ; but Clive, 
without hesitation, had the guilty boldness to forge his 
name. 

Everj^thing being now ready for action, Mr. Watts 
made his escape from the nabob's court at Moorsheda- 
bad, and Clive sent letters to Surajah Dowlah, which 
were tantamount to a declaration of war. He then ad- 
vanced up the country, relying on the promises of Meer 
Jaffier to join him with his division ; but at the decisive 
moment, the conspirator becoming fiightened, delayed 
to fulfil his engagements, and returned evasive answers 
to the earnest remonstrances of the English general. 
Under these circumstances Clive, for the first and last 
time in his life, called a council of war ; the majority 
decided against fighting, and he concurred in the opin- 
ion. But no sooner was the meeting over than he 
adopted the bolder and wiser course of hazarding an en- 
gagement. The soldiers received orders to advance, 
and after a painful day's march, they took up their 



LORD CLIVK. 83 

qaarters in a grove of mango trees near Plassey, within 
about a quarter of a mile of the enemy. 

At sunrise, on the morning of the 23d of June, 1757, 
the army of the nabob, consisting of forty thousand in- 
fantry and fifteen thousand cavahy, supported by fifty 
pieces of heavy ordnance, advanced to attack the Eng- 
lish army, which did not exceed three thousand men in 
all, and had, for its artillery, but a few field-pieces. 
But the nabob had no confidence in his army, nor his 
army in him ; the battle was confined to a distant can- 
nonade, in which the nabob's artillery was quite ineffec- 
tive, while the Enghsh field-pieces did great execution. 
Surajah's terror became greater every moment, and led 
him to adopt the insidious advice of one of the conspira- 
tors, and order a retreat. Clive saw the movement, 
and the confusion it occasioned in the undisciphned 
hordes ; he ordered his battalions to advance, and, in a 
moment, the hosts of the nabob became a mass of inex- 
tricable confusion. In less than an hour they were dis- 
persed, never again to reassemble ; though only five or 
six hundred fell, their camp, guns, baggage, with innu- 
merable waggons and cattle, remained in the hands of 
the victors. With the loss of only twenty-two soldiers 
killed and fifty wounded, Clive had dispersed an army 
of sixty thousand men, and conquered an empire larger 
and more populous than Great Britain. Surajah Dow- 
lah fled from the field of battle to his capital, but, not 
deeming himself safe there, he tried to escape by the 
river to Patna. He was subsequently captured, and 
barbarously murdered by the son of Meer Jafifier. In 
the mean time Clive led Meer Jafifier in triumph to 
Moorshedabad, and took a leading part in the ceremony 
of his installation. It now only remained to divide the 
spoil according to previous engagements. A meeting 
was held for the purpose, and there Omichund was in- 
formed, with little ceremony, of the artifice by which 
he had been duped. The shock overwhelmed him, he 
fell insensible into the arms of his attendants, and, though 
he revived, his mind was totally ruined. After lingering 
a few months in a state of idiocy, he died the victim 
of deception, which had duped him, the most practiced 
of deceivers. 



84 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH, 

Immense sums of money were given to the servants 
of the Company ; Clive received for his share between 
two and three hundred thousand pounds. Nor Avas this 
al] : Shah Alum, the son of the Emperor of Delhi, hav- 
mg invaded Bengal, Clive delivered Meer Jaffier from 
this formidable enemy, and was rewarded with the 
jaghire or estate of the lands south of Calcutta, for 
which the Company were bound to pay the nabob a 
quit-rent of about thirty thousand pounds annually. But 
the gratitude of Meer .Jaffier did not last long; weary 
of his dependence on the English, he sought an alliance 
with the Dutch, who had a factory at Chinsurah. ' The 
authorities of this place sent earnest letters to their 
countrymen in Batavia, urging them to take this oppor- 
tunity of raising a rival power to the English in India ; 
and their advice was taken. Seven large ships from 
Java, having on board fifteen hundred ti'oops, appeared 
unexpectedly in the Hoogley. Though England was at 
peace with Holland, Clive resolved to attack them with- 
out delay. The ships were taken, and the army routed. 
Chinsurah was invested by the conquerors, and was 
only spared on the condition that no fortifications should 
be built, and no soldiers raised, beyond those that were 
necessary for the police of the factories. Three months 
aftei-ward he returned to England, where he was re- 
ceived with a profusion of honors ; he was raised to the 
Irish peerage, and promised an English title. George 
III., who had just ascended the throne, received him 
with marked distinction, and the leading statesmen of 
the day vied with each other in showing him attention. 
By judicious purchases of land he was enabled to ac- 
quire gi'eat parliamentary influence, and by large pur- 
chases of India stock he was enabled to form a strong 
party in the Court of Proprietors. The value of such 
support was soon shown ; the Court of Directors, insti- 
gated by Mr. wSullivan, the personal ene?ny of Lord 
Clive, withheld the rent of the JRghire that he had re- 
ceived from Meer Jaffier, and it was necessary to insti- 
tute a suit in chancery to enforce payment. 

But Clive' s gi'eatest sti-ength was derived from the 
misconduct of his successors in the government of Ben- 
gal : resolved to enrich themselves at all hazards, they 



LORD CLIVE. 85 

earned misgovernment to an excess which menaced 
the very existence of society. They dethroned Meer 
Jaffier, and set up his son-in-law, Meer Cossiin, as nabob. 
Finding that Meer Cossim was not so pliable as they ex- 
pected, they set him aside and restored Meer Jaffier; 
at every change the hoards of the treasury were 
divided among those makers of sovereigns, and, when 
these failed, they were rewarded with lucrative mo- 
nopolies of trade, which reduced the native inhabitants 
to ruin. 

" Rapacity, luxury, and the spirit of insubordination," 
says a late writer, " spread from the civil service to the 
officers of the army, and from the officers to the 
soldiers. The evil continued to gi'ow till eveiy mess- 
room became the seat of conspiracy and cabal, and till 
the Sepoys could only be kept in order by wholesale 
executions." Individuals were enriched, but the public 
treasury was empty, and the government had to face 
the dangers of disordered finances, when there was war 
on the frontiers and disaffection in the army. Under 
these circumstances it was generally felt that Clive alone 
could save the empire which he had founded. 

Lord Clive felt the strength of his position. He 
refused to go to India so long as his enemies had pre- 
ponderating power in the Court of Directors ; an over- 
whelming majority of the proprietors seconded his 
wishes, and the Sullivan party, lately triumphant, was 
deprived of power. Having been nominated Governor- 
General and Commander-in-Chief of the British posses- 
sions in Bengal, he sailed for India, and reached Cal- 
cutta in May, 1765. He at once assembled the Council, 
and announced his determination to enforce his two great 
reforms — the prohibition of receiving presents from the 
natives, and the prohibition of private trade by the ser- 
vants of the Company. The whole settlement seemed 
to be set, as one man, against these measures ; but 
Clive declared that if the functionaries in Calcutta 
refused obedience, he would send for some civil ser- 
vants from Madras to aid him in conducting the admin- 
istration. As he evinced the strength of his resolution 
by dismissing the most factious of his opponents, the rest 
became alarmed, and submitted to what was inevitable, 
H 



86 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

One gi'eat cause of the evils he had to redress, was the 
system which the Company had adopted of paying inad- 
equate salaries, and conniving at the indirect gains of 
their agents. To compensate for the prohibition of 
these gains, Clive appropriated the profits derived from 
the monopoly of salt, which had long been a recognized 
source of revenue in India, to the support of the civil 
service, and fixed a scale for the division of the profits, 
which was very generally approved. This measure 
subsequently exposed him to much obloquy ; but when 
the circumstances which rendered it necessary are 
taken into consideration, few will be found to persevere 
in censure. 

Scarcely had the governor-general quelled the op- 
position of the civil service when he had to encounter a 
formidable mutiny of the officers of the army, occasioned 
by a diminution of their field allowances. Two hundred 
English officers engaged in a conspiracy to resign their 
commissions on the same day, believing that the gov- 
ernor-general would submit to any terms rather than 
see the army, on which the safety of the empire rested, 
left without commanders. They were mistaken in their 
calculations ; Clive supplied their places from the offi- 
cers round his person ; he sent for others from Madras ; 
he even gave commissions to some mercantile agents 
who offered their support at this time. Fortunately the 
soldiers, and particularly the Sepoys, over whom Clive 
had unbounded influence, remained stedfast in their 
allegiance. The leaders were arrested, tried, and dis- 
missed from the service ; the others, completely hum- 
bled, besought permission to withdraw their resignations, 
and Clive exhibited lenity to all, save those whom he 
regarded as the contrivers of the plot. 

In his foreign policy he was equally successful. The 
Nabob of Oude, who had threatened invasion, sought for 
peace as soon as he heard of Clive's arrival in India ; and 
the Emperor of DeUii executed a formal warrant, em- 
powering the Company to collect and administer the 
revenues of Bengal, Bahar, and Oussa ; that is, in fact, 
to exercise direct sovereignty over these provinces. 
Never had such a beneficial change been wrought in the 
short space of eighteen months. The governor-gen- 



LORD CLIVE. 87 

eral set a noble example of obedience to his own regu- 
lations : he refused the brilliant presents offered him by 
the native princes, and when Meer Jaffier left him a 
legacy of sixty thousand pounds, he made the whole 
over to the Company, in trust, for the officers and 
soldiers invalided in their sei"vice. 

At the close of January, 1767, the state of his health 
compelled Lord Clive to return to England. His recep- 
tion at home was far from being gratifying ; his old 
enemies in the India House, reinforced by those whose 
rapacity he had checked in Bengal, assailed him pub- 
licly and privately; the prejudices excited against those 
who had suddenly made large fortunes in India, were 
concentrated against him who was the highest, both in 
rank and fortune ; while his ostentatious display of 
wealth and grandeur increased the unfavorable impres- 
sion on the public mind. The dreadful famine which 
desolated Bengal in 1770, was, with strange perversity, 
attributed to Lord Clive's measures, and his parliamen- 
tary influence was greatly weakened by the death of 
George Grenville. Such was his position in the session 
of 1772, when the state of India was brought before 
Parliament, and all the evils of its condition made sub- 
jects of charge against the best of its rulers. Clive met 
the storm with firmness. Lord Chatham declared that 
the speech in which he vindicated himself at an early 
stage of the proceedings was one of the finest ever de- 
livered in the House of Commons ; his answers, when 
subjected to a rigid examination before a committee of 
inquiry, were equally remarkable for their boldness and 
candor. But there were some of his deeds which could 
not be justified, and a vote of moderate censure on his 
conduct was sanctioned by the House of Commons. 
This was a disgrace, for which the favor of his sover- 
eign, though it never varied, afforded him no conso- 
lation : his constitution, already weakened by a tropical 
climate, began to give way : to soothe the pains of mind 
and body, he had recourse to the treacherous aid of 
opium, which only aggravated both : at length, on the 
22d of November, 1774, he died by his own hand. 

That Clive committed manj^ faults, cannot be denied ; 
and it is not sufficient excuse to say that they were 



88 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

necessary to the founding of the British empire in India. 
But his second administration, the reforms he introduced 
into the government, and the system of wise policy 
which he estabhshed, may well atone for his errors ; 
indeed, it has done so in. India, where the natives not 
only respect his memory as a conqueror, but venerate it 
as a benefactor. 



CAPTAIN COOK. 



Voyages of discovery have now become rare ; every 
sea on the earth's surface has been explored by adven- 
turous British navigators, save those which are closed 
against enterprise, by barriers of everlasting ice. But 
at the accession of George III. little was known of those 
multitudes of islands which stud the Pacific Ocean be- 
tween the continents of Asia and America ; and still less 
of those vast lands in the Southern Seas, where now are 
flourishing colonies, destined, in the course of ages, to 
form new empires. The life of the gi-eat navigator, 
who may be said to have first directed the attention of 
the British nation to regions daily gi-owing in national 
importance, is one of great historic value. But it also 
possesses an interest of its own ; for it shows that in- 
dustry, integrity, and intelligence can open the way to 
fame and fortune, in spite of the disadvantages of humble 
birth, moderate means, and even a deficiency of early 
education. 

James Cook, the gi-eatest of modern maritime discov- 
erers, was born October 27th, 1728, at the village of 
Marton, near Stockton-upon-Tees, in the North Riding 
of Yorkshire. His parents were humble farm-servants, 
but they bore a high character for probity, and they were 
enabled to have their son apprenticed to a haberdasher, 
in the village of Staith, at the age of thirteen. A pas- 
sion for naval life is so generally felt by boys on the 
English coast, that it is not surprising to find Cook soon 
growing weary of the shop, and earnestly soliciting to be 
sent to sea. His parents gratified his inclination : he 
H 2 



90 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCtt. 

was bound to a ship-owner at Whitby, and, in the 
course of time, became mate of a vessel employed in 
the coal-trade, that best of schools for practical seaman- 
ship. He employed his leisure in acquiring a knowl- 
edge of marine sui-veying, and was early enabled to 
correct many eiTors in the defective charts then com- 
monly in use. In this pursuit, he must have been to a 
great extent self-taught, for he could have derived little 
aid from the limited instructions given at a village 
school. 

When war was declared between England and France 
in 1755, Cook volunteered to sei-ve on board the Eagle 
frigate, commanded by Captain, aftenvards Sir Hugh 
Palliser, and soon attracted the attention of the officers 
by his diligence, activity, and skill in seamanship. In 
May, 1759, he was promoted to be master of the Me 
cury, a ship which bore a part in the celebrated expeui- 
tion against Quebec. Before the English forces could 
venture on any attempt to effect a landing, it was neces- 
sary to take accurate soundings of the river St. Law- 
rence, in front of the French camp. Captain Palliser 
recommended that Cook should be employed on this 
arduous service, which he performed with such sagacity 
and resolution, that he was intrusted w^ith the charge of 
surveying the course of the river below Quebec. The 
accurate chart which he prepared gave general satisfac- 
tion ; he was promoted to the Northumberland, where 
he employed all the leisure that tlie duties of the ship 
afforded him, in the study of mathematics. When Sir 
Hugh Palliser was appointed Governor of Newfound- 
land, Cook was found qualified for the important office 
of Marine Surveyor of Newfoundland and Labrador. 
He held the office nearly four years, and the charts 
which he constructed of these coasts continue to be 
used at the present day. While he was engaged in this 
service, he had an opportunity of observing a remarkable 
eclipse of the sun : he transmitted the results of his 
observations to the Admiralty, and their scientific accu- 
racy excited the attention and admiration of the astrono- 
mers of the day. 

Tn 1767, the Council of the Royal Society represented 
to Government, that it would be of great importance to 



CAPTAIN COOK. 91 

astronomical and geographical science, if astronomers 
were sent to some part of the South Pacific Ocean, to 
observe the transit of the planet Venus over the sun's 
disk. The recommendation was favorably received, and 
the Endeavor, a ship of three hundred and seventy tons, 
was equipped for the purpose. At the urgent instances 
of the Secretary to the Admiralty, Cook, having been 
raised to the rank of lieutenant, was appointed to the 
command ; he saile-d from Plymouth, August 23d, 1768, 
accompanied by Mr. Green, as astronomer, and Sir Jo- 
seph Banks, as naturalist. Having passed round Cape 
Horn, the Endeavor reached the island of Otaheite, or, 
as it is now called, Tahiti, April 11th, 1769, which had 
been only once before visited by Europeans. As it was 
necessary to remain some time on the island. Cook used 
every precaution to keep on good terms with the natives ; 
he would receive no articles from them, except in fair 
traffic or barter ; he prohibited the use of deadly weap- 
ons when any accidental differences arose, and he 
restrained the curiosity of his companions, when its 
indulgence was likely to lead to any colhsion. These 
judicious measures had the desired effect ; the natives 
of Tahiti had no serious difference with their visitors 
during their stay. It was reserved for our day to find 
those peaceful islanders plundered and butchered by 
French adventurers, in the name of Christianity and 
civilization. The transit of Venus was satisfactorily 
observed, June 3d ; and on the 13th of July, the En- 
deavor resumed her voyage, pursuant to Cook's instruc- 
tions, which were to prosecute maritime discovery in 
the Southern Ocean, after the astronomical purposes of 
the exhibition had been fulfilled. 

Having spent a month in the examination of the So- 
ciety Islands, which had not been previously explored, 
he proceeded to search for the great Southern conti- 
nent, which was then generally, but erroneously, sup- 
posed to form a counterpoise to the extensive continents 
in the Northern Hemisphere. On the 6th of October, 
he came in sight of New Zealand, which had not been 
visited by Europeans since it was first discovered by 
Tasman, in 1642. Several months were devoted to the 
examination of this unknown region ; Cook was the first 



92 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

who discovered that it consisted of two large islands, 
separated by a strait, which now bears his name. From 
New Zealand, he steered to the still more important 
island of New Holland, the largest in the world, and 
that which presents the most perplexing problems to 
the geogi-apher, the geologist, and the natm^alist. The 
nature of these problems have been thus stated by the 
author of the present work, in one of the periodicals, 
and he trusts to be excused for making the quotation. 

" Some wicked wag declared, that the Martello towers 
were erected in Ireland by the Foxite administration, 
for the special purpose of puzzling posterity ; nature 
seems to have produced New Holland with a similai* 
design toward philosophers, having therein ruthlessly 
violated all the rules and regulations provided by the 
manufacturers of theories, from the days of Aristotle 
even unto the present time. Our northern rivers, after 
quitting the mountains, flow to the sea in a continuous 
stream, deepening and widening as they advance ; but 
some of the Australian streams, seemingly wearied of 
their long journey, quietly spread themselves out over a 
marsh, and stagnate in repose, notwithstanding any laws 
of map-makers or geographers to the contrary. Enor- 
mous masses of gi-anite, that ought, according to the 
rules and regulations in such cases made and provided, 
to have formed the terminations of mountainous chains, 
stand alone, like hermits in the wilderness. The very 
ocean seems to have been subjected there to a new 
code of laws, the observance of which is enforced by a 
cha-in of coral reefs, that compel obedience more power- 
fully th-an any chain of mathematical demonstrations 
with which speculative philosophers have fettered na- 
ture. When we meet such strange occurrences in the 
broad general features of the country, we may naturally 
expect that the minor details will be equally surprising ; 
accordingly, we find that the trees, herbs, and plants of 
this extraordinary country, are unlike anything to which 
we have been accustomed ; and that the animals seem 
to us like the strayed inhabitants of another planet. For 
about a score of centuries the name of a black swan was 
synonymous with non-existence : alas ] for the similes 
of poets and the illustrations of prosers ; scarce had this 



CAPTAIN COOK 93 

theatre of nature's frolics been opened to the public, 
when hosts of black swans were discovered, to the gi-eat 
confusion of whole troops of worthy book-manufacturers, 
but also to the great edification of all who advocate negro 
slavery. The ktter point may not immediately appear, 
but it is thus established : a black swan, that was kept 
on the lake in the Regent's Park, was actually attacked 
by a fosse comitatus of the white swans, and not going 
quietly into slavery, as might reasonably be expected, 
was murdered with very little ceremony. Who does 
not see, from this, that hostility between blacks and 
whites is a law of our nature, and that each color has a 
perfect right to abuse the other whenever an opportu- 
nity may offer ? — But the beasts distance the birds com- 
pletely in extravagance ; their birth, form, mode of life, 
and means of motion, are unlike anything in this part of 
the globe : death, after all, is the true leveler of distinc- 
tions, for it appears that they, at least, die according to 
the ordinary laws. There is every reason to believe 
that all the indigenous animals of New Holland belong 
to the Marsupian class, and considering the immense 
variety of the species into which this class is divided, it 
is not a little remarkable that it should be totally confined 
to Australia." 

Cook's attention was principally directed to the east- 
ern shores of this insular continent, to which he gave 
the name of New South Wales; and though the countiy 
has been since colonized, his descriptions of its geogra- 
phy and natural history may still be read with profit and 
pleasure. He had safely navigated this most dangerous 
coast, for a distance of thirteen hundred miles, where 
the sharp coral reefs, described in the preceding extract, 
rise like a wall to the surface of the water, when, on 
the night of June 10th, the ship suddenly struck on a 
coral reef, which was only a few feet below the surface 
of the water. Though she was immediately lightened 
by every possible means, two tides passed before she 
could be got afloat, and it was then found that she had 
received so much injury as to require three pumps to 
be kept going night and day. When the men were 
almost worn out by this labor, a midshipman suggested 
the expedient of passing a sail, charged with oakum and 



94 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Other light materials, under her keel ; and this succeeded 
so well, that the water of the leak was easily kept down 
by a single pump. On the 14th a harbor was discov- 
ered, since named Endeavor river, suitable for making 
the necessary repair. It was then found that a large 
fragment of the coral rock had remained in the ship's 
bottom, so as in a great measure to close the leak, which 
would othei-wise have admitted such a body of water as 
would have set all their exertions at defiance. To this 
providential occurrence they owed their escape, for had 
the ship foundered, the boats would have been insuffi- 
cient to contain the crew. 

When the repaii's of the Endeavor were completed, 
Cook pursued his course through inti'icate islands and 
reefs to the north of New Holland, which he was the 
first to discover to be a separate island from New Guinea: 
thence he proceeded to the Dutch settlement of Batavia, 
in the island of Java, for refreshment and repairs ; after 
which he returned to England, and cast anchor in the 
Downs, June 12th, 1771, having been absent little more 
than two years. 

Cook's discoveries had proved that New Zealand and 
New Holland were islands, and not part of a great south- 
ern continent, as had been generally supposed. But he 
had not ascertained whether some immense tract of land 
did not exist in higher latitudes, and a second expedition 
was prepared for this further investigation. Two ships 
were fitted out : the Resolution, commanded by Cook, 
and a smaller vessel, the Adventure, commanded by 
Captain Funeaux, which, however, was separated from 
her consort early in the second year of her voyage. 
The expedition sailed from Plymouth, July 13th, 1772: 
its researches possess more of scientific than of general 
interest, for the navigators sailed along the immense 
masses of ice in the Southern Ocean, without discovering 
any land of importance. Refreshments were obtained 
for the crew, at the Society Islands and New Zealand ; 
as in the former voyage, intercourse with the natives 
was so judiciously managed, that no dispute of any kind 
arose during the entire period. The principal discoveiy 
made in the Pacific Ocean, was the island to which he 
gave the name of New Caledonia ; and in the Southern 



CAPTAIN COOK. 95 

Ocean he discovered Sandwich land, a bleak and deso- 
late coast, which was the most southern land that had 
previously been known. After having traversed sixty- 
thousand miles of ocean, without so much injury to the 
ship as springing a mast or a yard. Cook returned to 
the Cape of Good Hope, whence he sailed for England, 
and on the 30th of July, 1774, cast anchor at Spithead. 

He was received in England with merited applause, 
and was appointed Captain of Greenwich Hospital. At 
this period of our naval history, the crews of ships suf- 
fered dreadfully from scurvy in long voyages, but Cook, 
during his long and painful surveys, had not lost a single 
man by this disease. He was induced by the Royal 
Society to detail the means by which he had been ena- 
bled to preserve his men in such unexampled health. 
In his paper read before the Royal Society, and justly 
rewarded with a gold medal by that body, he stated 
that he chiefly relied on a large stock of antiscorbutic 
stores, as malt, sourkrout, and portable broth ; the en- 
forcement of a vegetable diet wherever vegetables could 
be procured ; that he took great care not to expose the 
crew unnecessarily to the weather, and that he exer- 
cised careful supervision in keeping their persons, their 
clothes, and their berths clean, dry, and well-aired. He 
was justly proud of his success, and in closing his ac- 
count of his second voyage, refers to the efficacy of 
these precautions, with equal philanthropy and mod- 
esty : — "Whatever may be the public judgment about 
other matters, it is with real satisfaction, and without 
claiming any other merit than that of attention to my 
duty, that I can conclude this account, with an observa- 
tion, which facts enable me to make, that our having dis- 
covered the possibility of preserving health among a 
numerous ship's company for such a length of time, in 
such varieties of climate, and amid such continued hard- 
ships and fatigues, will make this Voyage remarkable in 
the opinion of every benevolent person, when the dis- 
putes about the southern continent shall have ceased to 
engage the attention and to divide the judgment of phil- 
osophers." 

At this time, another and more important geographi- 
cal problem engaged the attention of the nation — the 



96 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

practicability of a northeast passage to India and China. 
In the life of Nelson will be found a brief account of the 
expedition sent to investigate this question in the north- 
ern seas ; and it was deemed advisable that a similar 
attempt should be made in the North Pacific Ocean. 
Cook volunteered his services to command the latter 
expedition, and his offers were joyfully accepted. But 
the government wisely resolved to combine measures of 
practical benevolence with scientific research ; cattle, 
sheep, and other useful animals were embarked, to be 
left, and if possible to be naturalized, in New Zealand, 
Tahiti, and other islands. The ships sailed from Ply- 
mouth, July l*2th, 1776, but reached the Friendly Islands 
so late in the spring of 1777, that it would have been 
impossible to make any useful discoveiy in the Polar 
seas. Cook therefore spent the summer in examining 
various groups of islands in the Polynesian Archipelago, 
and while he greatly extended the geographical knowl- 
edge of these intricate seas, he left stocks of European 
animals at the principal islands, particularly at Tahiti, 
which have since become the source of valuable supplies 
to the whalers, and other navigators of the southern 
seas. 

In the beginning of 1778, he directed his course 
northward, and after executing some necessary repairs 
at Nootka Sound, advanced to the Aleutian islands and 
up Behring's strait. Here he ascertained that the con- 
tinents of Asia and America were only thirteen leagues 
apart. Having penetrated through the straits into the 
Artie seas, he soon reached its icy barriers, which he 
continued to examine until the end of August, when the 
increase of the ice compelled him to seek a more genial 
cUmate. He took advantage of this delay, to examine 
more closely the Sandwich Islands, which he had pre- 
viously discovered ; and directed his attention more 
particularly to Owyhee, or as it is now called, Hawai, 
the largest and most important of the gi-oup. Here the 
natives received the strangers with more than ordinaiy 
generosity and confidence. Near ten weeks w^eie 
passed without any serious disagi*eement, and the last 
entiy which Cook made in his journal was a declaration 
that this island, where his career was so soon to be 



CAPTAIN COOK. 97 

prematurely closed, fully compensated for his disappoint- 
ment in not discovering a northern passage homewards. 
" But to this disappointment," he wrote, " we owed 
having it in our power to visit the Sandwich Tslands, 
and to enrich our voyage with a discovery, which, 
though the last, seemed in many respects to be the 
most impoitant that had been hitherto made by Euro- 
peans throughout the extent of the Pacific Ocean." 

The fatal affray in which this great navigator lost his 
life, arose from one of those accidents against which no 
human foresight can guard. Like all barbarous tribes, 
the natives of the Sandwich Islands were much addicted 
to stealing some of the new and valuable articles displayed 
by their European visitors. Cook, with his usual be- 
nevolence, was disposed to make every allowance for 
the effect of such temptations on untutored savages, and 
generally efltected the restoration of the abstracted arti- 
cles by mildness and persuasion. But on the night of 
February 13th, 1779, one of the ship's boats was stolen, 
and this was too serious a loss to be endured. On the 
14th Cook went on shore, escorted by a few marines, 
hoping, by amicable means, to gain possession of the 
person of the king of the district, and keep him as a 
hostage until the boat had been restored. This remedy 
had frequently been tried before, and had always suc- 
ceeded. The king consented to go on board, the ship, 
but his subjects displayed great dissatisfaction ; a crowd 
collected, the indications of hostility gradually increased, 
several blows were aimed at Captain Cook, who was 
obliged to fire in self-defence. This further exasper- 
ated the natives ; a shower of stones was discharged at 
the marines, who returned it with a volley. The sail- 
ors in the boats, instead of pulling close to shore, to 
take the captain and marines on board, commenced a 
distant and stragghng fire. Cook turned round to order 
them to approach, but the natives liad now closed on 
the marines, and driven them into the water, after 
having killed four of the number. The captain was 
making toward the pinnace, when he was struck by an 
islander in the back of the head, and before he could 
recover from the blow, was stabbed by another in the 
neck. He might still have been rescued but for the 
7 I 



98 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

confusion which prevailed on board the boats : before 
the crew could recover their presence of mind, he was 
overpowered by numbers, and his lifeless body was 
borne off by the natives. Part of his remains was sub- 
sequently recovered, and committed to the deep with 
the usual military honors. Since that time, civilization 
has penetrated to Hawai, and the memory of Captain 
Cook is still venerated by the islanders, who from the 
first evinced shame and sorrow for the melancholy 
catastrophe. 

The command of the expedition, after Cook's fall, 
devolved on Captain Clarke, and when he died of con- 
sumption, on Lieutenant King, who continued the nar- 
rative of the expedition from the period where Captain 
Cook's journal ends, to its close. We cannot better 
conclude this article, than by quoting King's honorable 
testimony to the virtues of his beloved commander. 

" The constitution of Captain Cook's body was robust, 
inured to labor, and capable of undergoing the severest 
hardships. His stomach bore, without difficulty, the 
coarsest and most ungi-ateful food. Great was the 
indifference with which he submitted to every kind of 
self-denial. The qualities of his mind were of the 
same hardy, vigorous kind as those of his body. His 
understanding was strong and perspicacious. His judg- 
ment, in whatever related to the service he was en- 
gaged in, quick and sure. His designs were bold and 
manly ; and both in the conception and in the mode of 
execution, bore evident marks of a great original genius. 
His courage was cool and determined, and accompanied 
with an admirable presence of mind in the moment of 
danger. His temper might, perhaps, have been justly 
blamed as subject to hastiness and passion, had not these 
been disarmed by a disposition the most benevolent and 
humane. Such were the outUnes of Captain Cook's 
character ; but its most distinguishing feature was that 
unremitting perseverance in the pursuit of his object, 
which was not only superior to the opposition of dan- 
gers, and the pressure of hardships, but even exempt 
from the want of ordinary relaxation. During the long 
and tedious voyages in which he was engaged, his eager- 
and activity were never in the least abated. No 



CAPTAIN COOK. 99 

incidental temptation could detain him for a moment • 
even those intervals of recreation, which sometimes un- 
avoidably occurred, and were looked for by us with a 
longing, that persons who have experienced the fa- 
tigues of service will readily excuse, were submitted to 
by him with a certain impatience, whenever they could 
not be employed in making a further provision for the 
more effectual prosecution of his designs." 



WILLIAM COWPER. 



To Cowper must mainly be attributed the overthrow 
of the artificial school of poetry, founded by Pope and 
his followers, to make room for a more natural manifes- 
tation of thought and feeling, united to a keener percep- 
tion of the beauties, harmonies, and sublimities of crea- 
tion. He was the son of the Rev. John Cowper, rector 
of Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, and was born in 
that village, November 26th, 1731. From his infancy 
he was delicate in body, and excessively sensitive in 
mind. To such a child maternal attention is of the 
greatest value and importance ; but Cowper had the 
misfortune to lose his mother before he was six years 
old, and the early loss of that tender parent, whose 
" constant flow of love" he so beautifully describes in the 
lines on receiving her picture, made a deep and lasting 
impression on his mind. After spending a short time 
at a preparatory academy, he was sent to Westminster 
school, where he is reported to have suffered much from 
the wanton tyranny of his school -fellows, who, with the 
usual unthinking cruelty of youth, triumphed over the 
gentleness and timidity of his spirit. WaiTen Hastings 
was, at this time, a pupil in the same school ; he showed 
some kindness to young Cowper, who, in later years, 
refused to credit the charges brought against Hastings 
on his impeachment. He left school at the age of 
eighteen, and entered an attorney's office, where he be- 
came acquainted with Thurlow, afterward Lord Chan- 
cellor of England. Neither in this office nor subse- 



WILLIAM COWPER. 101 

quently, when he became a member of the Inner Tem- 
ple, did Cowper pay any attention to the study of the 
law : he attached himself to literature, and cultivated the 
acquaintance of Churchill, Colman, Lloyd, and Thornton, 
who had been his school-fellows at Westminster. Later 
in life, he lamented the waste of time in which he had 
indulged, and felt some remorse for his intimacy with 
persons whose moral opinions were far from the rigid 
strictness of his own. He appears to have contributed 
to the " Connoisseur," and other literary periodicals 
established by his friends, but the amount of his contri- 
butions cannot now be ascertained. 

Cowper's extreme diffidence presented an insuperable 
obstacle to his success at the bar. Through the influ- 
ence of some powerful friends he was appointed reading- 
clerk and clerk of committees to the House of Lords ; 
an oflice which would have insured him competence 
without much labor. But his bashfulness was so great, 
that he could not endure the idea of reading in public, 
and he resigned it for the less lucrative situation of clerk 
of the journals. Unfortunately it was necessaiy that he 
should appear at the bar of the house to qualify for this 
post; his morbid feelings on this occasion were so in- 
tense, that when the day for his appearance came, his 
friends acquiesced in his relinquishing the attempt, and 
he was thus deprived of the comfortable provision which 
had been placed within his reach. 

His mind became disordered during this painful strug- 
gle ; he sunk into deep religious despondency, and it 
was found necessary to place him in a lunatic asylum 
under the care of Dr. Cotton. His disease lasted from 
December 1763, to July 1764 ; his recovery was gi'eatly 
accelerated by a perusal of the third chapter of St. Paul's 
Epistle to the Romans, which suggested to him more 
cheering views of religion than he had previously enter- 
tained ; but we must not, therefore, attribute his original 
disease to his religious tenets. It was the obvious re- 
sult of the excessive sensitiveness and nervous sensibility, 
which prevented him from accepting an office that re- 
quired a public appearance before Parliament. On quit- 
ting the asylum, Cowper removed to Huntingdon, for 
the purpose of being near his brother, who was a resi- 
I 2 



102 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

dent Fellow of Bene't College, Cambridge. Here he 
Decame acquainted with the Unwin family, of which he 
oecame a permanent inmate ; and on the death of the 
elder Mr. Unwin, he accompanied the widow to the 
village of Olney, in Buckinghamshire, where he lived in 
the greatest retirement. The curate of Olney, at this 
period, was the pious and exemplaiy Rev. John Newton, 
with whom Cowper formed a most intimate friendship. 
The celebrated collection, called " The Olney Hymns," 
was the result of their joint labors. In 1770 he lost his 
brother, to whom he had been fondly attached ; this 
increased the gloominess of his mind, and in 1773 he 
again fell into the horrors of religious despondency. 
Mrs. Unwin watched over him with a tenderness and 
fortitude, which amounted to maternal protection ; no- 
thing could surpass the sufferings of the patient, or excel 
the care of the nurse. Her solicitude was rewarfled by 
his gi'adual restoration to sanity and health, and by 
his subsequent display of poetic powers of the highest 
order. The first amusement which helped to re- 
lieve the disti-ess of his mind, was the taming of three 
leverets, which had been presented to him by a friend. 
But he also tried, at different times, to divert his mind 
from the contemplation of his miseiy by gardening, 
drawing, and a variety of ti'ifiing manual applications. 
In a letter to Mr. King he says, " Many arts 1 have ex- 
ercised with this view, for which nature never designed 
me, though among them were some in which I arrived 
at considerable proficiency, by mere dint of the most 
heroic perseverance. There is not a squire in all this 
country who can boast of having made better squirrel- 
houses, hutches for rabbits, or bird-cages, than myself: 
and in the article of cabbage-nets, I had no superior. 
But gardening was, of all employments, that in which I 
succeeded best, though even in this, I did not suddenly 
attain perfection." 

His friends, however, felt that literary exertion was 
hkely to prove the most effectual remedy for his depres- 
sion of mind ; at their .instigation he prepared for the 
press his first volume of poems, including " Table Talk," 
"Hope," "The Progress of Error," "Charity," &c., 
which was published by Mr. Johnson, of St. Paul's 



WILLIAM COWPER. 103 

Churchyard, in 1782. A copy was sent by the poet to 
his old schoolfellow and companion Thurlow, who had 
risen to the dignity of Lord Chancellor, but it produced 
no result. 

The success of the volume was not, at first, equal to 
the author's expectations, or the inherent merits of the 
work ; the austerity of some passages, and the morose 
severity of others, were not acceptable to the great body 
of the public ; but, by degi-ees, the diversified merits of 
the poems became known, and their reputation was es- 
tabUshed. 

The removal of the Rev. Mr. Newton from Olney to 
London, deprived Cowper of a valuable friend and asso- 
ciate, but his place was, for a time, supplied by Lady 
Austen, whose liveliness in conversation and varied ac- 
complishments greatly alleviated his mental suffeiings. 
Among other small pieces which he composed at the 
suggestion of Lady Austen, was the celebrated baUad 
of " John Gilpin," the origin of which is thus related 
by his biographer, Mr. Hayley. " It happened, one 
afternoon, that Lady Austen observed him sinking into 
increasing dejection ; it was her custom, on these occa- 
sions, to try all the resources of her sprightly powers 
for his immediate relief. She told him the story of 
John Gilpin (which had been stored in her memoiy 
from childhood), to dissipate the gloom of the passing 
hour. Its effect on the fancy of Cowper had the air of 
enchantment ; he informed her, the next morning, that 
convulsions of laughter had kept him waking during the 
greater part of the night, and that he had turned her 
story into a ballad." Mrs. Unwin sent a copy of it to 
the Public Advertiser ; it immediately became a popular 
favorite, but was not known to be Cowper's until he in- 
cluded it in the second volume of his poems. 

The public was soon laid under a higher obhgation to 
Lady Austen for having suggested the poet's principal 
work, " The Task ;" — " A poem," says Mr. Hayley, 
" of such infinite variety, that it seems to include every 
subject, and every style, without any dissonance or dis- 
order : and to have flowed without effort from inspired 
philanthropy, eager to impress upon the hearts of all 
readers whatever may lead them most happily to the 



104 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

full enjoyment of human life, and the final attainment 
of heaven." 

Lady Austen saw the benefit which Cowper derived 
from literary employment, and often urged him to tiy 
his strength in blank verse. After some pressing he prom- 
ised to comply, if she would furnish him with a subject. 
" Oh, you can write on anything," she exclaimed ; " write 
on this sofa." The lively answer suited the mood of his 
mind ; he adopted it literally, and " The Sofa" forms 
the subject of the first book of the poem ; but he soon 
rises into a higher strain, and, in his discursive range, 
describes the beauty of rural scenery, the peculiar occu- 
pations of the winter season, the evils and advantages 
of civilization ; applies the lash of satire to vice, and 
inculcates a religion of peace and love. The scope and 
conduct of the poem is well described in the following 
lines, which form part of the conclusion : — 

" It shall not grieve me, then, that once, when call'd 
To dress a sofa with the flowers of verse, 
I played awhile, obedient to the fair, 
With that light task ; but soon, to please her mOie 
Whom flowers alone I knew would little please, 
Let fall the unfinish'd wreath and roved for fruit ; 
Roved far, and gather'd much ; some harsh, 'tis true, 
Picked from the thorns and briers of reproof, 
But wholesome, well-digested, grateful some, 
To palates that can taste immortal truth; 
Insipid else, and sure to be despised." 

At the instigation of the same lady, Cowper under- 
took the translation of Homer into blank verse ; this 
task had a most beneficial effect in furnishing him with 
constant employment, though the work added little to 
his reputation. His version is far more faithful than 
that of Pope, but it is deficient in spirit and energy ; 
indeed there is no version but that of Chapman which 
gives an adequate conception of the Homeric life and 
vigor. 

During all the period occupied by the literary labors 
we have described, Cowper's domestic history was cloud- 
ed by the general depression previously mentioned, and 
passed in strict seclusion. The jealousy with which 
Mrs. Unwin began to regard the superior powers and at- 
tainments of Lady Austen, diminished his narrow circle. 



WILLIAM COWPER. 105 

In 1784, he found it necessaiy to choose between the 
two friends, and deeply grateful for the parental care 
with which Mrs. Unwin had watched over him during 
long years of sorrow and sickness, he felt it his duty to 
address a farewell letter to Lady Austen, explaining the 
circumstances, and lamenting the separation. Notwith- 
standing this interruption to his tranquiUity, for such it 
certainly proved, although he was conscious that he had 
acted a strictly honorable part, he proceeded to complete 
his second volume of poems, which, in addition to " The 
Task," included the " Tirocinium," a poem, written 
expressly in dispraise of the existing system of public 
schools in England ; it was probably prompted by the 
poet's recollections of his own sufferings when a stu- 
dent at Westminster. This collection was published 
in 1785, and soon engaged the attention and admiration 
of the public, in a way that fully compensated for the 
cool reception and slow progress of the first volume. 

The success of his poems obtained for him a new 
female friend and associate, his cousin. Lady Hesketh, 
with whom his intercourse had been interrupted for 
three-and-twenty years. She provided the poet with a 
residence in the village of Weston near Olney, and pro- 
vided many comforts for him, from which he had been 
previously debarred by his limited income. Such kind- 
ness enabled him to complete his translation of Homer, 
which was published in July, 1791, with so much suc- 
cess, that the first edition was exhausted in less than 
six months. On the second edition he was bestowing 
such careful emendations as would have amounted to 
a new translation, but his mental malady continued 
unabated, and the gi-owing infirmities of Mrs. Unwin, 
who was attacked with paralysis, added to his uneasi- 
ness. At the same time he had been requested to su- 
perintend a new edition of Milton's works, a task for 
which he was preeminently qualified ; but, from the 
causes mentioned, this work was abandoned, as was also 
a poem that he had projected on the " Four Ages of 
Man ; or Infancy, Youth, Manhood, and Old Age." 

The cessation from literary labor gi-eatly increased 
his mental malady, which was further aggravated by 
bodily disease. A few intervals of brightness occurred 



106 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

occasionally, during which he produced some short but 
powerful pieces of poetry, and continued his labor of 
translating the Odyssey. In February, 1800, he exhib- 
ited all the symptoms of dropsy, which soon made rapid 
progress, and on the 25th of April, in the same year, he 
expired, so ti-anquilly, that his friends in the room were 
not for some time aware of the fact of his death. He 
was buried in Dereham Church, where a monument 
was erected to his memory by Lady Hesketh. 

It is unnecessary to dwell on Cowper's merits as a 
poet; they have been universally acknowledged. There 
is, however, one circumstance connected with his works 
which must not be omitted : — he revived Christian liter- 
ature in the land. In the long intei-val between Milton 
and Cowper, genius had too rarely paid homage to the 
great Source of all good and precious gifts, whether 
intellectual or material : but Cowper made religion his 
favorite theme ; not a religion of mental abstraction, but 
one of practical efficacy, on every feeling of the heart 
and every action of the life. It was ever his aim in his 
writings, to promote " Glory to God in the highest," 
by advancing " Peace upon earth, good-will toward 



REV. GEORGE CRABBE. 



This amiable man and excellent poet was born on 
the 24th of December, 1754, at Aldborough, where his 
father held the situation of collector of the salt duties. 
Having early shown a passion for learning, his family 
aftbrded him the best means of education in their 
power. At an early age he was bound apprentice to a 
surgeon, but about the same time he began to exhibit a 
love of poetry, which is too often inconsistent with more 
severe studies. The necessities of his family, and his 
own poverty, however, compelled him to labor in his 
profession, and though the insti'uctions he received were 
desultory, he profited so far by them as to make him- 
self a very respectable practitioner. Having become 
attached to a young lady, Sarah Elmy, he resolved not 
to marry until he had the means of supporting a family ; 
for this purpose he commenced business as an apothecary 
at Aldborough, but his success did not answer his ex- 
pectations. He had a transient gleam of fortune when 
the Warwickshire militia were quartered in that town : 
the officers having discovered his worth, invited him to 
share their society, and the colonel, afterwards the 
celebrated Field-Marshal Conway, presented him, at 
parting, with some valuable Latin works, fi'om the 
study of which he derived much improvement. Find- 
ing, however, that his professional prospects did not 
improve, he collected together the manuscripts of the 
poetry which he had composed at various times, and 
came to London as a literary adventurer. 

His early career in London was one of suffering and 



108 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

disappointment ; the booksellers refused even to look at 
his productions ; one poem, which he published anony- 
mously, brought him no profit, in consequence of the 
failure of the publisher, and the copies of the verses 
which he addressed to some of the most eminent men 
of the day, received no attention. Pecuniary embar- 
rassments began to accumulate around him, and he was 
almost reduced to despair. Under these circumstances 
he resolved to address a letter to Edmund Burke, 
though wholly unknown to that statesman, containing a 
candid statement of his position, and an earnest request 
for assistance and advice. Burke was much struck by 
the eloquent simplicity of the application, and though at 
this period (1781) he was deeply immersed in the 
turmoil of political life, he granted an intei-view to the 
distressed poet. Crabbe brought with him the manu- 
scripts of several works, more or less complete, out of 
which Burke selected the " Libraiy" and the " Village" 
as the best fitted for immediate publication. He invited 
the author to visit him at Beaconsfield, introduced him 
to several booksellers, who were now ready to treat 
with him on liberal terms, and sounded his praise in 
the lordly and literaiy circles, where Burke's authority 
reigned paramount. Thus pati-onized, the publication 
of " The Library" was eminently successful, and gave 
the author a high place among his literaiy contem- 
poraries. 

While Crabbe was on a visit with Burke, the latter 
had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the 
extent of classical information which the young poet 
had acquired by his almost unaided efforts. He resolved 
to secure him from future distress by procuring him a 
profession, and through his influence with Dr. Yonge, 
Bishop of Norwich, Crabbe was admitted to holy orders. 
This was not all : Lord Chancellor Thurlow was one 
of the noblemen to whom the poet had addressed his 
supplicatory verses in the period of his distress, and he 
had resented the neglect by a second copy of verses, in 
which the chancellor's character was rather harshly cen- 
sured. On learning Crabbe's merits, probably through 
the medium of Burke, the chancellor sent for him, 
apologized for his former rudeness, and presented him 



REV. GEORGE CRABBE. 109 

with a hundred pounds, promising, beside, that he 
would remember him in his official distribution of 
patronage. 

Crabbe, having obtained the curacy of Aldborough, 
returned to his native town in a very different position 
from that in which he had left it a few months before. 
His mother, to whom he was fondly attached, had died 
in his absence, and this was the first drawback on his 
happiness. But other inconveniences soon arose, prov- 
ing the truth of the aphorism, that " a prophet has no 
honor in his own country." It was whispered in the 
town, that a man who had failed in one profession, was 
not likely to succeed in another ; stories of his early 
life were revived and misrepresented ; and complaints 
were made of his display of pride to those who had 
been formerly his equals. Fortunately, the active kind- 
ness of Burke procured him the appointment of domestic 
chaplain to the Duke of Rutland ; he removed to Belvoir 
Castle, where he found leisure to prepare for the press 
his second poem, " The Village," which had the ad- 
vantage of being revised by Dr. Johnson and Mr. Burke 
previous to its publication. In December, 1783, he 
married the lady to whom he had been so steadily 
attached, and though he would have been permitted to 
retain his apartments in Belvoir Castle, he took the 
neighboring curacy of Stathern, and resided in the 
humble parsonage attached to that office. On the 
death of the Duke of Rutland, the dowager duchess 
resolved to provide for her former chaplain, and, through 
her influence, he became rector of the parish of Hus- 
ton, in Leicestershire. About the same time he pub- 
lished his third poem, " The Newspaper," and then 
withdrew himself entirely from public view, for two- 
and-twenty years. 

During the long period of his retirement from literary 
life, Crabbe zealously devoted himself to his duties as a 
parish clergyman; he retained sufficient knowledge of 
medicine to enable him to render frequent assistance to 
his poorer parishioners, and all his leisure was bestowed 
on the education of his children. 

In 1807 he once more asserted his claims as a poet, 
by the publication of " The Parish Register." When 
K 



110 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

he first sketched the plan of this poem he mentioned it 
to Mr. Fox, who promised to give it the benefit of his 
revision ; but when the time for sending it to press 
arrived, that great statesman was sinking under the 
fatigues of office and the weakness of a shattered consti- 
tution. He, nevertheless, sent for the poem to his sick- 
room, and made some suggestions which, after his death, 
were implicitly obeyed. Few poems have been more 
successful than " The Parish Register ;" the stories of 
which it is composed have a stern air of truth, which at 
once enforces a conviction of their reality, and they are 
nan-ated with an earnestness and sti-ength of expression 
equally original and powerful. 

In 1810 his fame was raised still higher by the publi- 
cation of " The Borough," in which the tales were more 
finished, and the story more fully developed, than in his 
previous publication. This was followed by his " Tales 
in Verse," which manifested an increase of power in 
naiTative description. The death of his wife, in 1813, 
produced such an eflfect on his health, that fears were 
entertained for his life ; it was fortunate that he was 
soon after able to exchange the living of Muston for that 
of Trowbridge, and thus to escape from a place where 
eveiy object revived the recollections of " the loved and 
lost." 

In 1817, Crabbe was introduced to the brilliant lite- 
raiy circles of London which had been formed at the 
houses of the Marquis of Lansdowne, the late Lord 
Holland, the late Mr. John MuiTay, and Mr. Samuel 
Rogers. The notes which he kept of his conversations 
with the eminent men to whom he was inti'oduced, are 
too brief to be of much interest, but there is no doubt 
that he produced a most pleasing effect on all who saw 
and heard him, by the simplicity of his manners and 
the shrewdness of his remarks. In 1819 he published 
" The Tales of the Hall," for which he received from 
MuiTay the munificent remuneration of three thousand 
pounds. 

The remaining years of his life were divided between 
his parochial duties, and visits to the many distinguished 
persons who cultivated his acquaintance through admi- 
ration of his work. This list included the most eminent 



REV. GEORGE CRABBE. Ill 

men of the time, to whom the venerable poet seemed 
the last representative of a past age ; for he alone could 
describe to them the days of Burke, Reynolds, and 
Johnson. A great moralist has justly observed, that a 
life may be very happy and very useful w^ithout being 
marked by any great incident. This was the case with 
Crabbe. From the time that the patronage of Burke 
placed him above the reach of want, there were few 
events in his career which differed from the ordinary 
course of life of any respectable clergyman. During 
the long interval that elapsed between the publication of 
" The Newspaper" and the appearance of " The Regis- 
ter," he was almost forgotten in the world, and his re- 
appearance in the literary circles was like that of some 
one who had risen from the dead. His later works ap- 
peared at distant intervals ; each showed the result of 
acute observation and mature reflection, but had little in 
common with the current literature of the day. In 
fact, he belonged more to the school of Burke and John- 
son, than to that of Byron, Scott, and Moore, which was 
in vogue when his best works were produced. Hence 
he was never placed in contrast with his later contem- 
poraries ; they seem to have viewed him as a literary 
patriarch, whom it was safe to revere, as he neither felt 
nor excited envy. His death took place January 3d, 
1832 ; he expired with the firmness of a man, and the 
tranquillity of a Christian. 

Crabbe's works will always be valued as genuine pic- 
tures of English life, but it is to be regretted that he has 
given most prominence to the sterner and harsher fea- 
tures in the several characters he has delineated. His 
style is sometimes as harsh as his sentiments ; but, 
whenever he gave way to a gush of affection, his versi- 
fication became as melodious as his feelings were tender. 
He was a good rather than a great man, but he was loved 
by all who knew himself, and is admired by all who 
know his works. 



SIR HUMPHREY DAVY. 



Chemical science has advanced more rapidly than 
any other branch of experimental philosophy within the 
last century; its applications to various industrial arts 
become every year more numerous and more important, 
so that its progress is, to a considerable extent, identified 
with our manufacturing and commercial prosperity. 
Few men have contributed more to the advancement of 
this science than Davy, who devoted to it the labors of 
his entire life. He was the son of a cai-ver in wood, 
and was born at Penzance, December 17, 1778. From 
his childhood he showed a remarkable quickness in ac- 
quiring knowledge, and a decided love of literature. He 
practiced oratoiy, wrote poetiy, and composed romances, 
and at the same time evinced a taste for experimental 
science. The latter circumstance probably induced his 
family to bind him apprentice to Mr. Borlase, a surgeon 
and apothecary, in the town of Penzance, who had a 
great taste for chemical experiments, and devoted to 
them the leisure moments left him by his profession. 
Young Davy devoted himself to similar pursuits with 
the most extraordinary enthusiasm ; he abandoned all 
the enjoyments and relaxations usual in youth, showed 
an aversion to festive society, and, when not engaged in 
active researches, seemed absorbed in contemplation. 
He had to contend against many disadvantages ; the 
books at his command were few, his master had no 
philosophical apparatus, and the instruments he em- 
ployed, being of his own contrivance and manufacture, 
were of tlie rudest possible description. The gallipots 



SIR HUMPHREY DAVY. 113 

and phials of his master's shop were, however, put into 
requisition, and with these he pursued researches which 
involved some of the most difficult problems in chemical 
analysis. At length he became possessed of a case of 
surgical instniments, which had been saved from the 
wi'eck of a vessel : this was to him a real treasure at 
the time, and enabled him to pursue a series of experi- 
ments into the nature of heat, light, and their combina- 
tions. The results of his investigations were published 
in a work edited by Dr. Beddoes, of Bristol, in 1799, 
and attracted much notice, as Davy's conclusions were 
quite opposed to Dr. Black's theory of heat, which was 
at that time popular in the scientific world. 

The ardor with which Davy pursued his investiga- 
tions greatly annoyed many of his neighbors, for chemis- 
try produces many results offensive to the sense of smell, 
and, when incautiously pursued, exposes men to danger 
from the bursting of the vessels they employ, or the 
combustion of the substances they use. His master, 
too, began to complain that metals, minerals, and vege- 
table substances absorbed the attention which should 
have been bestowed on patients, and many patients re- 
monstrated against the neglect of their real or fancied 
complaints for pursuits which they probably regarded 
as idle and useless. The reports respecting the young 
man's vagaries, as they were deemed, reached the ear 
of Mr. Davies Gilbert, himself an enthusiastic lover of 
science. He sought young Davy's acquaintance, was 
struck with the extent of his acquirements, gave him the 
use of an excellent library, and introduced him to Dr. 
Edwards, who possessed a well-furnished laboratory. 
Mr. Gilbert afterward compared Davy's pleasure, when 
surrounded with a set of fine philosophical instruments, 
to the delight of a child introduced to a magazine of toys. 
The air-pump, known to him previously only by de- 
scriptions and engravings, more especially fixed his at- 
tention ; he probably revolved in his mind the problems 
which he hoped to investigate by its aid, and was the 
more interested, as some of his earliest researches were 
directed to investigate the nature of the air secreted in 
the vessels of marine plants. He was soon after en- 
gaged assistant to Dr. Beddoes, in the Pneumatic Insti- 
8 k2 



114 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

tution at Bristol, and, being thus set free from the med- 
ical profession, he devoted his whole time to the culti- 
vation of science. 

It would be impossible to give the history of all, or 
even a gi-eat part of Davy's discoveries, without entering 
into details and dissertations which could only be under- 
stood by adepts in chemistiy : we shall, therefore, only 
notice the most popular. The inquiry which he pur- 
sued with the most ardor, was the effect of various gases 
and gaseous exhalations on life and health. Berthollet 
the younger, a chemist of high repute, had voluntarily 
sacrificed his life in the same investigation ; he inclosed 
himself in an atmosphere destructive of life, wrote down 
his successive sensations with equal accuracy and cool- 
ness, and thus continued until the pen dropped from his 
hand, and he fell lifeless. Davy exhibited an almost 
equal desperation, of which he has given the following 
account : — " My friend Mr. James Tobin being present, 
after a forced exhaustion of my lungs, the nose being 
accurately closed, I made three inspirations and expira- 
tions of the hydro-carbonate. The first inspiration pro- 
duced a sort of numbness and loss of feeling in the chest 
and about the pectoral muscles. After the second, I 
lost all power of perceiving external things, and had no 
distinct sensation, except that of a terrible oppression on 
the chest. During the third, this feeUng subsided, — I 
seemed sinking into annihilation, and had just power 
enough to cut off the mouth-piece from my unclosed 
lips. A short interval must have passed, during which 
I respired common air, before the objects around me 
were distinguishable. On recollecting myself, I faintly 
articulated ' I do not think I shall die.' " 

The publication of these researches, and the success 
of the young chemist in his examination of the nature 
of galvanism and the structure of plants^ made his name 
known to the leading men of science : and in 1801, on 
the recommendation of Count Rumford, he was ap- 
pointed assistant lecturer at the Royal Institution. 

Davy's lec^Jres, notwithstanding the abstruseness of 
their subjects, became exceedingly popular ; his mind 
was essentially of a poetic cast, and his range of imagi- 
nation supplied him with a rich variety of metaphors 



SIR HUMPHREY DAVY. 115 

and original illustration, such as poets themselves re- 
garded with admiration. His fame soon spread abroad ; 
the Board of Agriculture engaged his services as chemi- 
cal professor; and the Royal Society, of which he 
became secretary in 1807, frequently applied to him 
to deliver the annual Bakerian Lecture. But these 
engagements did not divert his attention from experi- 
mental research. His discoveries in chemical and 
electrical science were announced every year, to the 
surprise and admiration of philosophers ; but his highest 
fame arose from his determination of the laws of voltaic 
electricity, by which he might be said to have created 
an entirely new branch of science. Though England 
was then at war with France, the Imperial Institute of 
Paris awarded him a prize of three thousand francs, 
which he accepted, declaring that "if governments are 
at war, men of science are not." Honors now began 
to be proffered him from various quarters. The Uni- 
versity of Dublin created him a Doctor of Laws ; he was 
knighted by the Prince Regent, and elected an honor- 
aiy member of most learned bodies in England and on 
the Continent. In 1811 he married Mrs. Apreece, a 
lady of very large fortune, and soon after published his 
Elements of Chemical Philosophy, which he dedicated 
to his lady, "as a pledge that he should continue to 
pursue science with unabated ardor." 

After the return of Napoleon from Elba in 1814, Sir 
Humphrey Davy, anxious to visit the extinct volcanos 
in Auvergne, solicited permission to travel in France, 
which was immediately granted. The greatest atten- 
tion and respect were shown him by the men of science 
in Paris ; but he received these honors rather ungi-a- 
ciously, and Napoleon took an opportunity of censuring 
the haughtiness with which the great English chemist 
treated the men of science in Paris. It is scarcely just 
to ascribe Sir Humphrey Davy's conduct to arrogance ; 
he was a little eccentric, and his want of familiarity 
either with French manners or the French language 
rendered his position in Parisian society very liable to 
misapprehension. 

On his return to England in 1815, he resolved to turn 
his attention to the fire-damp, or explosive gas. found in 



116 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

coal-mines, which had been the cause of many dreadful 
accidents. After a long series of experiments, he dis- 
covered that if the flame of a lamp was protected by a 
wire gauze, the gases brought into contact with the 
lamp would not explode, while the light would still be 
preserved. This great discovery, which enabled miners 
to work in the midst of danger with perfect safety, was 
justly appreciated by the coal-owners of the north of 
England ; they invited him to a public dinner at New- 
castle, and presented him with a service of plate, val- 
ued at two thousand pounds. The Emperor of Russia 
sent him a splendid silver vase, as a testimony of regard, 
and he was created a baronet by the Prince Regent. 
But his best reward was the consciousness that the 
simple implement which he had invented annually saved 
hundreds of lives : indeed, there has not since been an 
instance of explosion where the Safety-lamp has been 
used. In 1820 he was elected President of the Royal 
Society. Two new projects at this time engaged his 
attention ; the possibility of unrolling the papyri found 
at Herculaneum, and a means of preventing the corro- 
sion of copper used in the sheathing of ships. Both his 
attempts failed, and the latter caused him great mental 
inquietude, as he had publicly boasted of his success. 
From this time he began to relax in his scientific pur- 
suits. He resigned his office in the Royal Society, and 
went to Italy for the benefit of his health, where he 
amused himself in writing his " Consolations in Travel, 
or the Last Days of a Philosopher." These last days 
were fast approaching : he quitted Italy in a very weak 
state, but had only reached Geneva on his way home, 
when he died on the 29th of May, 1829. 

Sir Humphrey Davy was one of the few men who 
united the vigorous imagination of a poet to the patient 
research of a philosopher ; he was equally fertile in in- 
vention and patient in investigation. " His mind," says 
one of his biogi-aphers, " was no less logical and precise 
than it was daring and comprehensive ; nothing was too 
mighty for its grasp, — nothing too minute for its obser- 
vation : like the trunk of the elephant, it could tear up 
the oak of the forest, or gently pluck the acorn from its 
branch." Some infirmities of temper sometimes cast a 



SIR HUMPHREY DAVY. 117 

shade over his better quahties ; he was disposed to be 
jealous of the fame of others, and to undervalue every 
kind of merit but such as he himself possessed. But 
these imperfections may well be excused, when we re- 
member that he gave the nation the benefit of all his 
brilliant discoveries, and in no one instance secured for 
himself the benefit of any of his useful inventions by 
taking out a patent. 



LORD ELDON. 



Few statesmen have exercised a more direct influ- 
ence on public affairs, or retained their power for a 
longer period, than the late Earl of Eldon ; still fewer 
have won their way to fame and fortune, by courage and 
perseverance against such an amount of early difficulties 
as he had to encounter. His father was a respectable 
coal-dealer at Newcastle-on-Tyne, where John Scott, 
the subject of the present memou-, was born on the 4th 
of June, 1751. His elder brother WiUiam, by a for- 
tuitous circumstance, which materially influenced the 
future fortunes of both, was born in the county of Dur- 
ham, his mother having removed fi'om Newcastle to 
avoid the dangers with which that town was menaced 
by the expected approach of the Pretender's army in 
1745. The brothers were educated at the Royal Gram- 
mar School of Durham, then conducted by Mr. Moises, 
and, though guilty of some youthful pranks, they were 
diligent scholars, and great favorites of their master. In 
1761, a scholarship for the diocese of Durham having 
become vacant at Corpus Christi College, advantage 
was taken of William's accidental birth in that diocese 
to propose him as a candidate. He passed his exami- 
nation very creditably, and received the appointment. 
Three years afterwards he obtained a fellowship, and 
was appointed a college tutor. Thus circumstanced, 
he resolved to send for his brother John, whom their 
father had designed to succeed him in business, and to 
give him the educational advantages of professional life. 
John went to Oxford, where he became a diligent stu- 



LORD ELDON. 119 

dent, and early distinguished himself by obtaining the 
prize in English composition. 

Before he was fixed in any profession, and while yet 
in some degree dependent upon his brother as well as 
his father, he ran away with a lady to Scotland, and 
this premature marriage involved him in considerable 
difficulties. One result was, that he was compelled to 
abandon his prospects in the Church, by resigning the 
fellowship which he held in Oxford, and he thus was 
very reluctantly compelled to adopt that profession, the 
bar, which alone could have given him the place in his- 
tory that he has, not undeservedly, attained. 

He was called to the bar in February, 1776, and for 
the first two years seemed to have little prospect of suc- 
cess. His first great effort was in a case which his 
clients had resolved to abandon as hopeless : Scott, with 
some difficulty, obtained their permission to persevere 
at his own hazard, and the decision of the Lord Chan- 
cellor was in his favor. Soon after, he was unexpectedly 
called upon to conduct an election case, on the morning 
of the day when it was to be brought before a Com- 
mittee of the House of Commons. Though his clients 
failed of success, the abilities which Scott displayed, and 
the readiness and tact which he exhibited, soon se- 
cured him the estimation of the members of his pro- 
fession. Many of them came forward with offers of 
pecuniary assistance, when, in consequence of the ex- 
penses of a growing family, he thought of retiring to 
the provincial bar, on the recordership of Newcastle. 

Among the sti-ange incidents that help to bring men 
forward in life, there are few perhaps more extraordi- 
nary than that which first brought Scott into prominent 
notice on the Northern Circuit. We shall give the ac- 
count in his own words : — " I was counsel in a cause, 
the fate of which depended on our being able to make 
out who was the founder of an ancient chapel in the 
neighborhood. I went to view it. There was nothing 
to be observed which gave any indication of its date or 
history ; however, I obsei-ved that the ten command- 
ments were written on some old plaster, which, from 
its position, I conjectured might cover an arch. Acting 
on this, I bribed the clerk with five shillings to allow me 



120 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

to chip away a part of the plaster, and, after two or 
three attempts, I found the keystone of an arch, on 
which were engraved the arms of an ancestor of one of 
the parties. This evidence decided the cause, and I 
ever afterward had reason to remember, with some 
satisfaction, my having on that occasion broken the ten 
commandments." In this anecdote, Lord Eldon has 
not done justice to himself. In his early youth, he 
never missed any opportunity of acquiring miscellaneous 
knowledge. The reading of some works on gothic 
architecture, and a slight study of heraldry, for mere 
amusement, enabled him to gain the clue to evidence, 
which, though he described it as fortuitous, was really 
the logical result of previous study. His subsequent 
successes are purely professional, and it is only neces- 
sary to state that they procured for him, in 1783, the 
rank of King's Counsel. 

In the same year Mr. Scott was returned to Parlia- 
ment for Lord Weymouth's borough of Weobly. He 
entered pohtical life when Mr. Fox's India Bill was 
deemed decisive of the great struggle between that 
statesman and his rival Mr. Pitt. Scott took the side of 
the latter ; his speech on the third reading of the bill 
was, however, more remarkable for the zeal of a parti- 
san than the ability of a statesman, and the orator 
showed his prudence by never afterward indulging in 
flights of rhetorical declamation. From this time, his 
reputation at the bar and in the senate steadily in- 
creased ; and Mr. Pitt, to whom he was firmly attached, 
derived most important advantages from his support. In 
1788 he became solicitor-general, and was knighted by 
the king, an honor which he received with some reluc- 
tance. Soon after, he took a leading part in the discus- 
sion on the Regency question, of which we have given 
an account in the Life of Mr. Fox ; the king was much 
pleased with Sir John Scott's resistance to the measures 
proposed by the opposition, and thenceforward regarded 
him more as a private friend than an official servant. 

In 1793 Sir John Scott became attorney-general. 
It was a period of great difficulty and anxiety. The 
King of France had just been put to death by his sub- 
jects ; war had been declared against France ; and 



LORD ELDON. 121 

England was disturbed by political agitators, who advo- 
cated principles too nearly approaching to those of the 
French Republicans. But the loyalty of the great 
body of the nation was unquestionable, and the alarms, 
excited by the efforts of a few noisy discontented 
individuals, were greatly exaggerated beyond what the 
occasion required. Early in 1794, the Habeas Corpus 
act was suspended, and several of the leading agitators 
taken into custody. A special commission was issued in 
September for the trial of political offenders, and twelve 
of those who had taken a prominent part in seditious 
societies were indicted for high treason. Hardy was 
the first brought to the bar : the opening speech of the 
attorney-general occupied no less than nine hours in 
its delivery, and this circumstance weighed not a little 
in favor of the prisoner, as it showed that the evidence 
which required so long an explanation of introductory 
matter could not be palpable and direct. The evidence 
for the prosecution closed on the fifth morning of the 
trial, when Mr. Erskine opened the case for the defence 
in a speech of unrivaled eloquence and argument. The 
prisoner's case occupied two days, and Sir John Scott 
made an able reply. Lord Chief-Justice Eyre then 
summed up the evidence, and the jury, after delibe- 
rating more than three hours, returned a verdict of 
acquittal. Nothing could exceed the popular excite- 
ment during this trial, which lasted nine days and eight 
nights : the friends of the attorney-general believed 
that he was exposed to personal danger, from the rage 
of the mob, but Sir John Scott himself never showed 
any timidity, and Mr. Erskine, who, as counsel for the 
defendants, was exceedingly popular, always kept his 
carriage near that of the attorney-general. 

The failure of the prosecution against Hardy greatly 
aggravated the difficulties of the law officers of the 
crown in proceeding against the other prisoners. After 
some anxious discussions it was resolved to continue the 
prosecutions, and the Rev. John Home Tooke was the 
next brought to trial. This second trial lasted six days, 
and was little better than a repetition of the arguments 
and evidence in Hardy's case, and the jury pronounced 
a verdict of acquittal after a deliberation of a few minutes. 
L 



122 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

The case against Thelwall similarly failed after a trial 
of four days, and the government then abandoned the 
rest of the prosecutions. This failure, and the subse- 
quent enactment of new coercive measures against secret 
societies and seditious meetings, provoked severe ani- 
madversions. In 1798, Sir John Scott prosecuted the 
Rev. J. O'Coigley and some others, for high treason, at 
Maidstone ; O'Coigley was convicted, and the rest 
acquitted ; and it was remarked that this was the only 
occasion on which the attorney -general obtained a 
verdict, though he had six tunes prosecuted for high 
treason. This was probably one of the reasons for his 
anxiety to be appointed to the Chief-Justiceship of the 
Common Pleas, which became vacant in 1799. After 
some delay, Mr. Pitt consented to the arrangement, on 
the condition of the new judge becoming a peer, to 
which the king added the additional stipulation of his 
not refusing to accept the office of chancellor, if ever it 
should be offered. All difficulties were soon overcome ; 
Sir John Scott became Chief Justice, a member of the 
Privy Council, and Baron Eldon. 

It had been Mr. Pitt's intention to follow up the 
Legislative Union with Ireland, by a measure for eman- 
cipating the Catholics from their political disabilities. 
To this George III. was strongly opposed, and his 
opinions were shared by Lord Eldon. On the formation 
of the Addington administi-ation, the king required Lord 
Eldon to fulfil his promise of becoming chancellor when 
required, and personally presented him with the seals 
of office, using the strong expression, " I give them to 
you from my heart !" It is probable that the king was 
conscious of the mental indisposition under which he at 
this time suffered, and was therefore anxious to have a 
personal friend in the most important office under the 
crown. Certain it is that Lord Eldon, during the 
period of painful suspense in which the issue of the 
royal malady remained doubtful, was the most confi- 
dential adviser of the queen and the princes, and the 
most ti'usted adviser of his majesty during his lucid 
intervals. It would be an invidious task to inquire 
whether the chancellor did not, on some occasions, 
allow a nominal exercise of royal authority when the 



LORD ELDON. 123 

king was not in so sound a state of mind as to be capable 
of exercising his judgment. 

Lord Eldon acted for the king in the negotiations 
that led to Mr. Pitt's return to office, and took rather 
an active part in enforcing the exclusion of Mr. Fox 
from the cabinet ; this increased his influence with the 
king, but tended to render him unpopular in the country. 
The part, however, which he acted, was more influ- 
ential than conspicuous ; in Parliament he was princi- 
pally known as the leading opponent of Catholic eman- 
cipation, against which he made his first speech in 1805. 
When the Fox and Grenville ministiy was formed, 
the chancellor resigned v and was succeeded by Lord 
Erskine. In this intei-val of retirement he became the 
confidential adviser of the Princess of Wales (afterward 
the unfortunate Queen Caroline), whose conduct was 
made the subject of a " delicate investigation." The 
king took part with his daughter-in-law against his son, 
and the difterence of opinion between him and his 
ministers on this subject showed that the Grenvilles 
were not likely to have a long tenure of office. At this 
crisis the ministers introduced a bill, with a clause 
granting certain relaxations to Roman Catholic officers 
serving in the army or navy ; the king was alarmed, or 
pretended to be so, and eagerly embraced the opportu- 
nity of removing a cabinet which he disliked. A new 
administration was formed, with the Duke of Portland 
as premier; and Lord Eldon, after little more than a 
year of exclusion, resumed the office of chancellor. 
He was soon called upon to defend his colleagues for 
having sent an expedition against Denmark, to compel 
the surrender of the Danish fleet, in order to prevent its 
falling into the hands of Napoleon. The best comment 
on this transaction is a characteristic trait of George 
III., which Lord Eldon, many years afterward, related 
to Mrs. Forster : — 

" Do you recollect when we took the Danish fleet 
during the war, Mrs. Forster? We had no right 
whatever to do so, but we were obliged, or it would 
have fallen into the hands of Bonaparte. We deemed 
it a matter of necessity. Well, we sent an ambassador 
— I think it was Mr. Jackson — to demand the ships 



124 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

from the Prince Royal; and when the ambassador 
waited on George III. on his return, the king abruptly- 
asked him, ' Was the Prince Royal up-stairs when he 
received you?' 'He was on the ground-floor, please 
your majesty.' ' I am glad of it — I am glad of it, for 
your sake,' rejoined the king, ' for if he had had half the 
spirit of George III. he would infallibly have kicked 
you down stairs.' " This story was related to Lord 
Eldon by the king himself. 

When Mr. Canning sought the removal of Lord 
Castlereagh, as we have mentioned in Canning's life, 
he further suggested the propriety of transferring the 
Great Seal from Lord Eldon to Mr. Perceval; this 
offence was never forgiven, and their further differences 
on the Catholic question effectually prevented a recon- 
ciliation. To Lord Eldon, perhaps, more than to any 
other person, was owing the failure of the several 
negotiations for strengthening the ministry by intro- 
ducing some of the leaders of the liberal party into the 
cabinet; he was the unflinching opponent of every 
measure which came from that party, and to him must 
chiefly be attributed the long delay in settling the 
question of Catholic Emancipation, and the repeated 
frustration of Sir* Samuel Romilly's benevolent efforts 
to diminish the indiscriminate severity of the British 
criminal code. 

When George III. became finally incapacitated for 
the functions of royalty, Lord Eldon defended the pro- 
priety of a restricted regency. This did not, as was 
expected, excite hostility in the mind of the Prince of 
Wales ; in the course of a year he became so perfectly 
reconciled to his father's ministers, that when the re- 
strictions ceased he resolved to continue them in office. 
An abortive attempt was made to form a coalition with 
Lords Grey and Grenville, but it never appears to have 
had a chance of success, and it is doubtful whether there 
was a sincere desire that it should succeed. The lam- 
entable death of Mr. Perceval, who was assassinated in 
the lobby of the House of Commons, produced little or 
no change ; Lord Liverpool succeeded him as premier, 
and under his administration the wai* against France 
was brought to a successful termination. In the riots 



LORD ELDON. 125 

which were occasioned by the introduction of the corn- 
laws, Lord Eldon's house was attacked by the mob, but 
the mischief done was not gi-eat ; the chancellor evinced 
gi-eat firmness on the occasion, though he was far from 
being a prominent supporter of the obnoxious law. 

We now approach an event in Lord Eldon's life, 
which, for many reasons, we should wish to avoid dis- 
cussing, and which we shall, therefore, handle as deli- 
cately as possible. Soon after the death of the Princess 
Charlotte, the regent communicated to the chancellor 
some reports of a scandalous nature respecting the con- 
duct of the Princess of Wales. The celebrated Milan 
Commission was appointed to collect evidence on the 
subject ; but though the result was one which, in the 
opinion of the king and his ministers, estabUshed the 
imputed adultery, yet, so long as she continued abroad, 
and held no higher station than that of Princess of Wales, 
it was thought expedient to abstain from any public pro- 
ceeding on the subject of her alleged misbehavior. But 
when George IV. became king by his father's death, he 
earnestly pressed upon his ministers to procure him a 
divorce, which they unanimously refused. They, how- 
ever, promised that if the queen should at any time 
return, to force herself upon him and the countiy , they 
would comply with his desires. The omission of her 
name from the Liturgy produced effects which the min- 
istry had not anticipated ; she immediately set out on 
her return to England, rejected the offer of compromise 
made to her at St. Omers, and arrived in London, to 
the great dismay of the cabinet. On the evening of the 
same day the king sent a message to both houses of par- 
liament, inculpating the queen, accompanied by a gi-een 
bag of documents, containing the evidence collected by 
the Milan Commission. 

Lord Eldon having been the friend and adviser of the 
queen, when as Princess of Wales she had to meet sim- 
ilar charges, found himself in a veiy perplexing situation. 
He and most of his colleagues secretly exerted them- 
selves to effect some kind of compromise, but the king 
was firmly bent on nothing short of exposure and divorce^ 
while the queen demanded a public recognition of her 
innocence and her rights. Nothing was left but to pro- 
l2 



126 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

ceed ; Lord Liverpool introduced the bill of " Pains and 
Penalties," while Lord Eldon supported the king's 
wishes as strenuously as if he had approved them from 
the very beginning. It is not necessary to give any ac- 
count of this disgusting ti-ial ; w^hen the evidence on both 
sides was concluded, Lord Eldon delivered a speech of 
great power against the queen, but, after a debate of 
four days, the second reading of the bill was carried 
only by a majority of twenty-eight in a house of two 
hundred and eighteen members. The smallness of the 
majority gave rise to a general expectation that the bill 
would be abandoned, as it probably would have been, 
but for the firmness and influence of Lord Eldon. When 
the majority, however, on the third reading, fell to nine, 
Lord Liverpool refused to proceed any further, and the 
bill was abandoned, to the great dissatisfaction of the 
chancellor. It was as a reward for his zeal on this oc- 
casion, that the chancellor was advanced to the dignity 
of an earl ; he was, however, unable to prevent the 
premier from entering into an alliance with the Gren- 
ville party, an alliance which certainly advanced the 
cause of Catholic emancipation, and pointed to the adop- 
tion of other hberal measures. 

The death of the Duke of York gi'eatly diminished 
the political influence of Lord Eldon ; the next heir to 
the throne sharing his opinions on the Catholic question, 
enabled him to resist the liberal portion of the cabinet 
with great effect for several years. But, even with this 
aid, the chancellor had long felt that his principles were 
losing ground, not merely in Parliament, but in the ad- 
ministration, and his reliance on the personal favor of 
the king was greatly shaken. The illness of Lord Liv- 
erpool, and the necessity of appointing a new premier, 
followed hard on the death of the Duke of York. On 
the appointment of Mr. Canning to be head of the gov- 
ernment. Lord Eldon and the other anti-Catholic mem- 
bers of the government resigned their offices, and Lord 
Lyndhurst succeeded to the office of chancellor. 

Before taking a view of Lord Eldon's character as a 
judge in the court over which he so long presided, it 
will be convenient to give a precise summary of the 
remaining incidents of his political life. After Canning's 



LORD ELDON. 127 

death his successors proved too feeble to conduct the 
government, and a new administration was formed under 
the auspices of two of Lord Eldon's former associates, 
the Duke of Wellington and Mr. Peel, who had joined 
him in resigning when Canning became premier. They 
did not, however, oifer to restore him to his office as 
chancellor, but kept Lord Lyndhurst in his place ; 
this, on account of his great age, might have been ex- 
pected, but he was gi-eatly mortified to find that he was 
not invited to join the ministry in any capacity, for he 
expected to be, at least, appointed President of the 
Council. 

The measures of the new ministry were far from 
giving him satisfaction ; he led the opposition against his 
old colleagues on the repeal of the Test and Corpora- 
tion Acts, and on the question of Catholic emancipation, 
which he resisted to the last. With the same steady 
adherence to the principles of his youth, he vehemently 
opposed the Reform Bill, and the other measures of Earl 
Grey's administration, displaying, notwithstanding his age 
and weakness, undaunted courage and gi-eat intellectual 
vigor. Disheartened at last by finding his resistance to 
innovation unavailing, he gi-adually withdrew himself 
from pubhc life, and finally sank under the weight of 
years, at his country seat, on the 13th of January, 1838, 
in the eighty- seventh year of his age. 

Lord Eldon presided over the Court of Chanceiy for 
a quarter of a century, and his decisions during that pe- 
riod form a collection of the applied principles of equity 
which are of unrivaled value. His activity in political 
life had, however, a very injurious eflfect on his charac- 
ter as a judge, during his lifetime ; but, as the memory 
of the contests of party fades away, his legal merits 
become more clearly recognized, and every lawyer is 
ready to bestow his meed of praise on the permanent 
memorials of the Earl of Eldon. The chief accusation 
against the chancellor was the length of time which he 
allowed to elapse before he pronounced judgment; his 
doubts and delays were said to amount almost to a re- 
fusal of justice. 



LORD ERSKINE. 



Among those lawyers who have raised the character 
of the English bar to a level with the tribunals of anti- 
quity for the highest order of eloquence, the name of 
Erskine must ever be conspicuous. He was the third 
son of the Earl of Buchan, whose family had occupied a 
high station in the ancient times of the Scottish monar- 
chy, but had not retained their former wealth. Thomas 
Erskine was born in 1750, and, after having received 
the elements of education in the High School of Edin- 
burgh, and afterward at the University of St. Andrews, 
he was, in consequence of the limited means of his 
family, sent to sea as a midshipman, at the age of four- 
teen. Though separated thus early from his parents, 
he continued to cultivate the taste for literature with 
which they had inspired him, and early acquired the 
notice of his superior officers by the extensive and va- 
ried knowledge he displayed in conversation. After 
having served four years in the navy, seeing that his 
chances of promotion were remote, he obtained the com- 
mission of ensign in the first regiment of foot. In 1770 
he married Miss Moore, and soon afterward went with 
his regiment to Minorca, where he remained about three 
years. Though his means were slender, yet, by the 
prudent economy of Mrs. Erskine, he was enabled to 
maintain a respectable appearance, and to mix with the 
best society in the gamson. On his return to England, 
his conversational powers procured him admission into 
the best literaiy circles, and Dr. Johnson, who met him 
accidentally, bore warm testimony to his acuteness and 
ingenuity. 



LORD KRSKINE. 129 

Lady Buchan, hearing from various quarters the high- 
est praises of her son's intellectual powers, and aware 
that in the army he would have long to struggle with 
the embarrassments of a scanty income, urged him to 
prepare himself for the bar, and he is said to have 
adopted her advice most reluctantly and unwillingly. 
She continued to animate his hopes and support his 
courage, until success, gi'eater than any one could have 
anticipated, justified the wisdom of her recommendations. 
In 1777, Mr. Erskine entered as a fellow-commoner at 
Trinity College, Cambridge, and a student at Lincoln's 
Inn. Soon after, in order to acquire the necessary 
knowledge of the practical parts of his profession, he 
became a pupil of Mr. Buller, the most eminent special 
pleader of his time. While thus pursuing his studies, 
he had to struggle against great pecuniary difficulties, 
but his amiable wife cheered his exertions, and, by the 
most rigid frugality, rendered their narrow income suffi- 
cient for the support of the family. 

Mr. Erskine was called to the bar in Trinity Term, 
1778, and almost immediately obtained an opportunity 
of exhibiting his rare powers as an advocate. Captain 
Baillie, who had been removed from the superintend- 
ence of Greenwich Hospital by the Earl of Sandv^ch, 
First Lord of the Admiralty, published an appeal to the 
public, which that nobleman resolved to prosecute as a 
libel. At the table of a common friend the captain met 
Mr. Erskine, and was so much sti'uck with his energy 
and ability, that he insisted on having him employed in 
his defence. The young advocate entered into the case 
with a courage which has had few parallels. Not con- 
tent with the vindication of his client, he assailed the 
prosecutors, and particularly Lord Sandwich, in a tone 
of sarcastic and indignant invective. Earl Mansfield, be- 
fore whom the case was tried, interrupted him more 
than once, but the courage of Erskine rose with the 
occasion, and he did not abate the severity of his ani- 
madversions. Such was the effect of this first speech, 
that, as he left the hall, thirty attorneys, who happened 
to be present, placed retaining fees in his hand, and his 
fame was considered as established. He was soon after 
employed as counsel for Mr. Camac. the bookseller, to 
9 



130 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

plead at the bar of the House of Commons against a bill 
introduced by Lord North, the prime minister, to re 
store to the universities the monopoly of publishing 
almanacs, which Mr. Camac had overthrown in a court 
of law. His speech on this occasion was much admired, 
and to its influence was atti'ibuted the large majority by 
which the bill was rejected. 

A new opportunity of distinguishing himself was of- 
fered to Mr. Erskine by the trial of Admiral Keppel, in 
which the feelings of the public were deeply interested. 
He was retained in this case, because Messrs. Dunning 
and Lee, the advocates originally engaged, were igno- 
rant of the technical phrases used in naval tactics, with- 
out some knowledge of which the cause could not be 
possibly conducted. Dunning therefore recommended 
that Erskine should be engaged, since to his gi'eat pow- 
ers as an advocate he united the practical knowledge of 
naval affairs he had acquired as a midshipman. His 
services on this occasion were rewarded by a fee of on-e 
thousand guineas ; and at a subsequent period they se- 
cured for the advocate the representation of the borough 
of Portsmouth. 

In the year 1780, London was alarmed and disgi'aced 
by riots which spread universal consternation. After 
the tumults were suppressed, the Government resolved 
to punish the instigators and authors of the riots. Lord 
George Gordon, who had taken an active part in stimu- 
lating popular prejudice, though he had not sanctioned 
any outrage, was indicted for high ti-eason. This was 
a case of what is called "constructive treason," in which 
the guilt of the accused is not to be inferred from any 
single act, but from a variety of cu'cumstances, which, 
taken separately, could not produce a conviction. In 
no depaitment of his profession had Mr. Erskine at- 
tained such excellence as in commenting upon evidence, 
and the defence of Lord George Gordon taxed his pow- 
ers to their utmost extent. The opening of this celebra- 
ted speech was admirably calculated to conciliate his 
audience : — 

" Gentlemen, I feel myself entitled to expect from you 
and fi-om the court, the greatest indulgence and atten- 
tion ; I am indeed a greater object of compassion than 



LORD ERSKINE. 131 

even my noble friend whom I am defendmg. He rests 
secm-e in conscious innocence, and in the weh-placed 
assurance that it can suffer no stain in your hands. Not 
so with me : I stand up before you a troubled, I am 
afraid a guilty man, in having presumed to accept of 
the awful task which I am now called upon to perform ; 
a task which my learned friend who spoke before me, 
though he has justly risen by extraordinary capacity and 
experience to the highest rank in his profession, has 
spoken of with that disti'ust and diffidence which be- 
comes every Christian in a cause of blood. If Mr. Ken- 
yon has such feelings, think what mine must be ! Alas ! 
gentlemen, who am I? — a young man of little experi- 
ence, unused to the bar of criminal courts, and sinking 
under the dreadful consciousness of my defects. I have, 
however, this consolation, that no ignorance nor inatten- 
tion on my part can possibly prevent you from seeing, 
under the direction of the judges, that the crown has 
established no case of treason." 

The great merits of this speech cannot be appreciated 
without a diligent study of the trial itself. Admiration 
is excited by the subtleties with which the advocate 
abates the force of the testimony he is encountering, 
and the artful eloquence with which he exposes its de- 
fects and its contradictions. The concluding passage is 
very impressive : — 

" I will now relieve you from the pain of hearing me 
any longer, and be myself relieved from speaking on a 
subject wl^jich agitates and distresses me. Since Lord 
George Gordon stands clear of every hostile act or pur- 
pose against the legislature of this country or the prop- 
erties of his fellow-subjects — since the whole tenor of 
his conduct repels the belief of the traitorous conduct 
charged by the indictment — my task is finished. I shall 
make no address to your passions — I will not remind 
you of the long and rigorous imprisonment he has suf- 
fered ; — I will not speak to you of his great youth, of 
his illusti-ious birth, and of his uniformly animated and 
generous zeal in Parliament for tlie constitution of his 
country. Such topics might be useful in the balance of 
a doubtful case ; yet even then I should have trusted to 
tlie honest hearts of Englishmen to have felt them with- 



132 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

out excitation. At present, the plain and rigid rules of 
justice and truth are sufficient to entitle me to your ver- 
dict ; and may God Almighty, who is the sacred author 
of both, fill your minds with the deepest impressions of 
them, and with virtue to follow those impressions. You 
will then restore my innocent client to liberty, and me 
to that peace of mind, which, since the protection of 
that innocence in any part depended on me, I have never 
known." 

Lord George Gordon was acquitted, and even those 
most opposed to the part he had taken rejoiced in his 
escape, because they believed the docti-ine of constructive 
ti-eason dangerous to public freedom. 

Soon after Erskine's election to Parliament he was 
employed in a case which brought into question the ex- 
tent of the power of juries in the case of libel. In the 
year 1783, soon after the conclusion of the disastrous 
war with America, societies began to be formed in vari- 
ous parts of England to procure a reform in the parlia- 
mentary representation. Sir William Jones wrote a 
little work on the subject, under the title of a " Dialogue 
between a Scholar and a Farmer," which, having excit- 
ed some attention in manuscript, was published by his 
brother-in-law, the Dean of St. Asaph, who prefixed to it 
a short advertisement. The dean was immediately in- 
dicted for the publication of a seditious libel, and was 
defended by Mr. Erskine. Judge BuUer, before whom 
the case was tried, insisted that the jury could only pro- 
nounce on the fact of publication, but that^the court 
alone could determine whether the publication was a 
libel in law. The jury found the dean " Guilty of pub- 
lishing only,'''' a verdict which the judge refused to re- 
ceive ; after a long altercation it was altered to " Guilty 
of publishing, but whether a libel or not the juiy do not 
find." After a long series of arguments in the superior 
courts, judgment against the dean was an-ested, and 
further proceedings were abandoned. But the trial 
must ever be memorable, since it gave occasion to the 
declaratory act of the law of libel, by which juries were 
constituted judges equally of the fact and the law. 

In 1789 Mr. Erskine was engaged in the defence of 
Stockdale, a bookseller, accused of publishing a libel on 



LORD ERSKINE. 133 

the House of Commons for having sanctioned the im- 
peachment of Warren Hastings. The speech which 
he delivered on this occasion is the finest specimen of 
forensic oratory to be found in our language. He ex- 
hibited consummate art in separating the defence of 
Stockdale from that of Hastings, and justifying the right 
to criticise the conduct of the managers of the trial with- 
out asserting that the criticism was merited. One ex- 
tract on the nature of the liberty of the press may be 
quoted : — 

" It is the nature of eveiything that is gi-eat and 
useful, both in the animate and inanimate world, to 
be wild and irregular, and we must be contented to 
take them with the alloys which belong to them, or 
live without them. Genius breaks from the fetters of 
criticism ; but its wanderings are sanctioned iby its ma- 
jesty and wisdom when it advances in its path : subject 
it to the critic, and you tame it into dulness. Mighty 
rivers break down their banks in the winter, sweeping 
away to death the flocks which are fattened on the soil 
that they fertilize in the summer ; the few may be 
saved by embankments from drowning, but the flock 
must perish from hunger. Tempests occasionally shake 
our dwellings and dissipate our commerce ; but they 
scourge before them the lazy elements, which, without 
them," would stagnate into pestilence. In like manner. 
Liberty herself, the last and best gift of God to his crea- 
tures, must be taken just as she is. You might pare 
her down into bashful regularity, and shape her into 
a perfect model of severe, scrupulous law, but she would 
then be Liberty no longer ; and you must be content to 
die under the lash of this inexorable justice which you 
had exchanged for the banners of Freedom." 

Stockdale was acquitted, and his trial is remarkable 
as being the last which took place for libel previous to 
the enacting of the Declaratory Act already described. 

In Parliament Mr. Erskine did not maintain the char- 
acter for eloquence which he had acquired at the bar. 
He was a zealous supporter of the Une of politics pur- 
sued by Mr. Fox, and hke that statesman, he was 
sti-ongly opposed to the war with France. A pamphlet 
which he published on the subject, went through theun- 
M 



134 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

precedeuted number of forty-eight editions. His labors 
as a politician, however, did not increase his fame ; it 
was as an advocate for the many persons prosecuted by 
the government at the close of the last century, that he 
proved himself the most formidable opponent to Mr. 
Pitt's ministiy. His defence of the notorious Thomas 
Paine in 1792 was injurious to his influence ; at the 
close of his speech the jury found the defendant guilty 
without waiting for the attorney-general's reply, and 
Mr. Erskine was dismissed from his post of legal adviser 
to the Prince of Wales. The office was, however, re- 
stored to him in 1802, with some additional honors and 
emoluments. 

In the life of Lord Eldon we have given an account 
of the state ti'ials of 1794. The speech which Mr. 
Erskine delivered in favor of Hardy, the first of the 
prisoners placed on trial, was regarded by the accused 
themselves as the principal cause of their acquittal. He 
spoke while suffering under the pressure of severe ill- 
ness, but this did not damp his enthusiasm or weaken 
his abilities. Men of all parties acknowledged and ad- 
mired his zeal and talents, and no complaints were made 
of his conduct by the ministers whom he defeated. 
From this time he was considered the best advocate at 
the English bar, and continued to stand at the head of 
his profession, occasionally taking a share in parliamen- 
tary debate, until the death of Mr. Pitt in 1806 opened 
the path for Mr. Fox's accession to power, when he 
was raised to the peerage, and appointed Lord Chan- 
cellor. 

Lord Erskine's judicial career was brief, and did not 
add to his fame ; he was called to preside over a court, 
with the practice of which he was unacquainted, and 
the principles of which were very different from the 
common law, to which he had exclusively devoted his 
attention. He had the disadvantage of coming after 
Lord Eldon, who had spent nearly the whole of his pro- 
fessional existence in courts of equity, and whose exti-a- 
ordinary attainments were never questioned, even by 
those who arraigned the uses to which they were ap- 
plied. Whether the quickness and readiness for which 
Erskine w^as remarkable would have enabled him to 



LORD ERSKINE. 135 

overcome these disadvantages, may be questioned ; no 
opportunity, however, was alibrded for a trial ; the min- 
istry, of which he formed a part, was dismissed early in 
1807, and thenceforward he ceased to take an active 
part in public affairs. 

It is painful to follow this great man through the rest 
of his career. A partial loss of fortune, occasioned by 
an infelicitous purchase of land, and a great diminution 
of income from the cessation of his professional emolu- 
ments, subjected him to many embarrassments ; these 
were increased by an imprudent second marriage, at- 
tended by disgraceful circumstances, on which it is pain- 
ful to dwell. The only occasion on which he took an 
active part in politics was at the time of Queen Caroline's 
trial, when he supported the cause of that lady, but with 
less of enthusiasm than ability. Part of his leisure was 
employed in the composition of a political romance and 
some pamphlets, which did not tend to increase his repu- 
tation. He died November, 1823, of an inflammation 
of the chest. 

The talents of Lord Erskine were pecuharly those 
which constitute the accomplished advocate rather than 
the discriminating judge or the able statesman. His 
power of commanding at the instant all the powers of 
his mind, and his dexterity in applying these resources, 
were never exceeded at the English bar. These facul- 
ties, united with great spirit and courage, rendered him 
formidable on the defensive side of political prosecu- 
tions ; but his highest claim to the gratitude of posterity 
is, that several great constitutional principles, which had 
been keenly contested, were fixed on a firm and immu- 
table basis, chiefly through his exertions. 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 



The biography of Charles James Fox is one fraught 
with lessons of deep importance to the young, for it 
shows that early indulgence in dissipation may cast a 
shadow over the whole of future life, which no talents 
can remove, and no subsequent success dispel. He was 
born in the Januaiy of 1749, and was the second son of 
the first Lord Holland, a statesman more distinguished 
for tact and cleverness than for either purity or consist- 
ency of principle. Charles was a favorite and a spoiled 
child ; the tales of Lord Holland's extravagance in grati- 
fying the whims and caprices of his beloved boy are 
equally numerous and ridiculous. He broke up a beau- 
tiful watch, because the child cried to see the works ; 
he caused a new wall to be blown up with gunpowder, 
because he had promised that Charles should witness 
the destruction of the old one. Evils have arisen from 
too great severity in education, but the opposite extreme 
of excessive indulgence is at least equally dangerous ; in 
the world, men must live under the dominion of law, 
and the best preparation for the observance of the laws 
of society is their ti-aining in submission to the authority 
of a parent. Two anecdotes are related which show 
that the system of unrestrained indulgence pursued by 
Lord Holland had an injurious effect on his son, even in 
early life. Lady Holland happening to make a casual 
remark on some event in Roman history, in which she 
stated the circumstances inaccurately, her son rudely 
contradicted her, and pointed out the nature of her en*or 
with a triumphant satisfaction, utterly unsuited to his 



CHARLES JAMES POX. 137 

age and position. On another occasion he burned a 
very important dispatch which his father had just con- 
cluded, because he disapproved of some expressions it 
contained ; and Lord Holland, instead of reprimanding 
him, quietly prepared a second copy from the official 
draught. 

Such a system of education gave the boy that bold- 
ness and self-confidence which the father wished to de- 
velop ; but it made him impatient of control, and anxious 
to join prematurely in the indulgences of men. Even 
in this impropriety he received the sanction of his father. 
At the age of fourteen he accompanied his father to 
Spa, and was supplied with an allowance of five guineas 
per night, to be spent in games of hazard. The natural 
consequence was, that he acquired a passion for gaming 
which he was never able to subdue, and which, through 
the whole of his subsequent life, kept him in difficulties 
of the most galling nature. 

At Westminster School, and afterward at Eton, Fox 
distinguished himself by his great proficiency in classi- 
cal literature ; and when he entered Hertford College 
in Oxford, he soon became remarkable for his zeal in 
study, and for his extensive acquirements. Unfortu- 
nately, his dissipation was as gi-eat as his proficiency ; 
his time was unequally divided between honorable and 
vicious pursuits, the latter having the gi-eater sway. 
After a short residence at Oxford, he made a tour on 
the Continent, where his lavish prodigalities at length 
alarmed his indulgent father, who summoned him home, 
after he had not only spent his liberal allowance, but 
conti-acted debts of vast amount in every capital which 
he had visited. At Naples alone his liabilities are said 
to have amounted to sixteen thousand pounds. 

Lord Holland's great anxiety was that his son should 
become distinguished in political life. At this period the 
government of the country was virtually placed in the 
hands of a few powerful families, and a man of gi-eat 
talent, connected with any of these families, was almost 
sure of success as a statesman. George HI. had made 
several eflbrts to break down this power of " gi-eat fami- 
lies," and had not been wholly unsuccessful. He sought 
the aid of those families which had been neglected by 
M 2 



138 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

his grandfather on account of their real or supposed at- 
tachment to the house of Stuart, and he thus gradually 
formed a party which soon changed the entire nature 
of English politics. Lord Holland had educated his son 
for a state of policy which had become antiquated when 
that son entered on political life ; and hence many of 
the young man's early steps were not only wrong in 
themselves, but difficult to be retrieved at a later period 
in public life. 

In 1768, though yet under age, Fox was elected to 
Parliament as member for Midhurst, and he commenced 
his career as a zealous supporter of Lord North's un- 
popular administration. At this time John Wilkes, 
after having been expelled from the House of Commons, 
had been elected member for Middlesex, and when the 
election was set aside, he was again returned without op- 
position. A third election took place ; the ministerial 
candidate, Colonel Luttrell, was left in a small minority, 
but the House of Commons voted that he ought to have 
been returned, and declared him the sitting member. 
This decision produced violent agitation in every part 
of the empire. Wilkes had been already engaged in a 
contest with the government as the publisher of a libel, 
but though harshly and illegally treated, he had not ob- 
tained much sympathy, because his private character 
was not such as could win respect ; but the setting aside 
of the votes of a majority of a constituency, and giving 
the contested seat to the candidate who had been in the 
minority, was very generally regarded as a flagi-ant vio- 
lation of the constitution. Fox defended with great 
spirit the conduct of the ministry and the House of 
Commons, in reference to the Middlesex election, and 
he thus incurred no small share of the ministerial un- 
popularity. In later years, and even now, by many 
historians, it is said that this conduct was utterly incon- 
sistent with the principles he then professed, and the 
conduct he subsequently pursued. Without entering 
into any controversy, we may remark that Fox, through- 
out the whole of his life, looked to the House of Com- 
mons as the gi-eat agency of the government of Great 
Britain, and was just as unwilling to have it controlled 
by the clamor of the people as by the power of the 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 139 

crown. Fox's services were rewarded by liis being ap- 
pointed one of the Lords of the Admiralty early in 1772. 
His tenure of office was brief; having been thwarted by 
the ministers in his efforts to obtain a repeal of the bill 
against clandestine marriages, he resigned with very 
marked ill-tempei*. At this time the emoluments of 
office were tempting to a person in his position ; it is re- 
corded that he lost no less than eleven thousand pounds 
at hazard, in one sitting, and that, immediately after- 
ward, he delivered a most brilliant speech on the ne- 
cessity of enforcing tests in the universities as safeguards 
of morality and religion. Lord Holland, however, did 
not approve the step taken by his favorite son : he open- 
ed negotiations with Lord North, and Fox joined the 
ministry in the higher office of a Commissioner of the 
Treasuiy ; the fond father, at the same time, paid his 
son's debts, though they amounted to the extraordinary 
sum of one hundred and forty thousand pounds. Lord 
North appears to have received Fox with reluctance, 
and only through fear of offending Lord Holland, whose 
personal influence was formidable, for very soon after 
that nobleman's death he deprived the young statesman 
of office, in a manner pointedly insulting and unnecessa- 
rily severe. Lord North and Mr. Fox had subsequently 
reason to lament that they had allowed personal and 
vindictive feelings to interfere with the courtesies of 
political life. 

Fox went into opposition at a moment peculiarly fa- 
vorable to his fame. He just escaped fi'oni the cabinet 
as the fatal measures for the employment of coercion 
toward America had been adopted, and he thus escaped 
from being committed to a line of policy, bad in itself 
and worse in its results. He joined Mr. Burke, more as 
a pupil and a follower, than as an associate ; united with 
him, he assailed his former associates with powers which 
they never suspected him to possess, and thenceforth, 
notwithstanding his youth, he began to be considered as 
the chief leader of the opposition. He firmly resisted 
the ministers during the long course of the American 
war, supporting all Burke's propositions for conciliating 
the colonies, and predicting that the violent methods pur- 
sued by the cabinet would only end in defeat and dis- 



140 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

gi-ace. The war in America, whatever may be thought 
of its origin, was most miserably conducted ; scarcely 
one of the royal generals exhibited either the skill of a 
leader or the corn-age of a soldier. Under these cir- 
cumstances the provincials gi-adually acquired training, 
skill, and discipline, until they at length compelled a 
royal army under General Burgoyne to surrender to 
the American armies. This disaster occurred on the 
17th of October, 1777. Fox, who had visited Paris in 
the preceding year, and entered into all the dissipations 
of that city, probably found an opportunity of discovering 
the secret feelings of the French court, and had, proba- 
bly, some private correspondence established with per- 
sons of influence. His follies and his extravagances 
would, in fact, have been recommendations in the court 
of Louis XV., which was one of unexampled profligacy, 
and the influence of which extended into the reign of his 
unfortunate successor. There is no doubt that, from the 
very beginning of the American war, the French court 
had felt a deep interest in the contest, and secretly wished 
for the disgrace of Great Britain, by which France had 
been humbled in the previous war ; but the state of the 
finances and the memory of former defeats prevented any 
active demonstration, until Burgoyne's disaster seemed 
to present a favorable opportunity for interference. It 
has not been explained how Fox obtained early informa- 
tion of the intention of the French to become allies of 
the Americans, but there is rro doubt that he derived 
this knowledge from peculiar sources, and produced it 
at a moment when it was little expected. 

On the 17th of February, 1778, Lord North intro- 
duced two bills for the conciliation of the revolted colo- 
nies, which had, some months before, declared them- 
selves independent states, and in the speech which he 
delivered on the occasion, abandoned the arguments by 
which he had supported his measures of coercion. Fox, 
after having sarcastically congratulated the minister on 
becoming a late convert to the arguments of Burke, af- 
firmed that the plan of conciliation came too late, for 
that a treaty of alliance had been concluded between 
France and America, which, of course, rendered the 
proposed plan of pacification uttei-ly useless. After be- 



CHARLES JAMES POX. 141 

ing very hard pressed, Lord North was forced to admit 
that he had heard of such a treaty being in agitation, but 
that he had no authority to say it was signed. The 
publication of the treaty within a few days proved Fox's 
accuracy, and exposed the ministry to much animadver- 
sion for the lateness of its information. 

The French having proclaimed war, an Enghsh fleet, 
under Admirals Keppel and Palliser, was speedily equip- 
ped to guard the channel ; it soon encountered a French 
fleet under Oi-villiers, and an indecisive engagement fol- 
lowed. Greater success had been generally expected ; 
the failure was attributed to Palliler, a zealous supporter 
of the ministry, and, therefore, pohtically opposed to 
Keppel, who had been taken from the ranks of opposi- 
tion. In consequence of the debates on this subject, 
both admirals demanded, and obtained, courts martial; 
Keppel was triumphantly acquitted, Palliser escaped 
with a slight and inadequate censure. Fox took advan- 
tage of these circumstances to renew his attacks on the 
administration, and particularly on the admiralty. This 
greatly increased his popularity with the nation, for the 
English have always been jealously alive to the fame and 
superiority of their navy. The parliamentaiy debates 
began from this time to increase in violence. At the 
close of the session of 1779, Mr. Fox so severely attack- 
ed Mr. Adam, a Scotch gentleman, that a duel ensued, 
in which Mr. Fox was slightly wounded. Soon after- 
ward, another duel was fought between the Earl of 
Shelburne and Mr. FuUarton ; but these barbarous ap- 
peals to arms were justly condemned in both houses of 
Parliament, and viewed with proper dislike by the great 
body of the people. 

The American war had at first been popular; the 
separation of the colonies from the parent state had been 
viewed not so much as a revolt against the government, 
as a rebellion against the people of England ; but the 
miserable way in which the war was conducted, the nu- 
merous reverses which tarnished the character of the 
English army, and the obvious incapacity of the ministry, 
began to alarm the country, and numerous petitions 
were presented, demanding a change in the government. 
On the 6th of April, 1780, Mr. Fox, supported by the 



142 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Dukes of Devonshire and Portland, presided at a gi'eat 
public meeting in Westminster, where the policy of the 
cabinet was harshly condemned. The following night, 
Mr. Dunning moved his celebrated proposition in the 
House of Commons, " That the influence of the crown 
had increased, was increasing, and ought to be dimin- 
ished ;" tliis resolution was carried against ministers by 
a majority of 233 against 215. Fox followed up this 
success, by moving several other resolutions equally 
stringent, all of which were adopted. At this crisis the 
house adjourned for ten days in consequence of the ill- 
ness of the speaker, Sir Fletcher Norton : ministers 
made such good use of the respite, that when the house 
again met, Dunning's motion for an address to give ef- 
fect to the late resolutions, was rejected by a majority 
of fifty-one. Fox gave vent to his disappointment in 
one of the most bitter invectives ever delivered within 
the walls of Parliament ; he reproached those who had 
so recently changed sides, with servility, ti'eachery, and 
dishonor, and plainly declared that they had sold them- 
selves and their country. This was not a course hkely 
to conciliate the waverers, and the ministers presei-ved 
their majority to the end of the session. 

On the dissolution of Parliament, in 1780, Fox offbred 
himself a candidate for the city of Westminster, and, 
after a severe contest with Lord Lincoln, was returned 
by a large majority. Though now httle more than 
thirty years of age, he had attained unexampled popu- 
larity, but unfortunately his dissipation was as noto- 
rious as his talents. Though he had inherited from his 
father an income of 4,000L, and had subsequently suc- 
ceeded to the Clerkship of the Pells in Ireland, worth 
about 3,000L a-year more, he had squandered all the 
money at his command, and all that he could raise by 
the most ruinous expedients, so that he frequently 
wanted the means of defraying his daily expenses. 
This had a very injurious effect on his political in- 
fluence ; men of sober minds too frequently regarded 
him as a political adventurer, eager to seize the emolu- 
ments of office at any risk in order to mend his broken 
fortunes. It must be confessed that however natural 
this suspicion may have been, it was altogether unjust ; 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 143 

Fox was far from being venal ; indeed, his chief errors 
arose from his insensibility to the value of money, the 
natural result of his father's unwise indulgence. 

When Parliament had assembled on the 27th of 
December, 1781, intelligence had just been received of 
the surrender of the British army under Cornwallis, to 
the united forces of the French and Americans. For 
this disaster the ministers were most bitterly assailed 
by Fox, who was eagerly supported by Burke, and by 
Mr. William Pitt, second son of the Earl of Chatham, 
who had just entered Parliament, and j-oined the ranks 
of opposition. Under the continued attacks of these 
assailants, to which additional strength was given by the 
disastrous conduct of the war, the cabinet was rudely 
shaken, and the ministerial majorities in Parliament 
showed symptoms of rapid decline. On the 24th of 
February, General Conway's motion for putting an end 
to the American war was rejected only by a majority 
of one ; and when it was renewed in another shape oa 
the 27th, it was carried by a majority of fifteen. The 
ministerial sti'uggle was, however, prolonged to the 
20th of March, when Lord Noith rather unexpectedly 
informed the House that his administration was at an 
end. 

Lord North's unfortunate administration occupies too 
important a share in English history to be lightly dis- 
missed ; his lordship had taken the office of premier at 
the personal request of the king, when a combination 
of parties threatened to deprive the sovereign of any 
choice in the appointment of ministers. He was thus 
placed at the head of an administration, framed in 
opposition to the system of government which had 
prevailed in England from the accession of the House 
of Hanover ; a system in which, for the first time, the 
personal influence of the sovereign had preponderating 
influence in the cabinet. George IH. had sti-ong pas- 
sions ; his dislike of Wilkes, who had personally in- 
sulted him, and his determination to compel the 
American colonies to submit at discretion, were feel- 
ings which he fondly cherished, and which he forced on 
his ministers, who often were anxious to try measures 
of mildness and conciliation. Lord North, who was 



144 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

fondly attached to the king, adopted a course of policy 
which his better jsidgment condemned, and when he 
found that his compliance was likely to bring loss and 
disgrace upon the countiy, he sti'enuously and re- 
peatedly sought permission to retire into private life. 
So far from seeking to retain office in defiance of the 
country — a charge frequently brought against him, he 
was only kept in place by the earnest request of the 
king, who dreaded that a change of ministry would 
compel him to employ the Rockingham party, whom 
he thoroughly disliked both collectively and individually. 
Fox was especially odious to George III., and at no 
period of his life was the statesman able to overcome 
the prepossessions formed against him. Fox's extrava- 
gance and dissipation will only partially account for this 
hostility ; other circumstances, not wholly explained, 
made the king regard the necessity of employing Fox 
as one of the gi'eatest calamities which could befall 
royalty. 

When Lord North resigned, the opposition was 
divided into two great parties : the one headed by the 
Marquis of Rockingham, to which Fox belonged ; and 
the other guided by the Earl of Shelburne, in which 
the younger Pitt already acted a conspicuous part. As 
neither party had sufficient strength of itself to form an 
administi'ation, a cabinet was formed consisting of five 
members from each, the eleventh member being Lord 
Thurlow, who had been retained in the office of chan- 
cellor, which he had held under the former administra- 
tion at the personal request of the sovereign. When 
the new ministry was formed (March 28, 1782) Pitt 
was oifered the subordinate post of a Commissioner of 
the Treasury, which he very indignantly refused ; and 
unquestionably, under all circumstances, he was entitled 
to a more influential position. Fox became Secretary 
of State for Foreign Affairs, and was generally supposed 
to have paramount influence in the cabinet. Few ad- 
ministrations effected so many useful changes in so 
short a time as that which the Marquis of Rockingham 
presided over. Burke's system of economic reform 
was established, though not in its full extent ; officers 
of the customs and excise were disoualified from voting 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 145 

at elections ; government contractors were excluded 
from the House of Commons ; the discontents of Ire- 
land were appeased ; and the first steps taken to effect 
a reconciliation with America. In all these measures 
Fox took a leading part, but he gave some offence by- 
discountenancing, rather than opposing, Wilkes's suc- 
cessful motion to rescind all the unpopular proceedings 
relating to the Middlesex election. 

The death of the Marquis of Rockingham put an end 
to the administration ; the king appointed the Earl of 
Shelburne premier, upon which Fox, Burke, Caven- 
dish, and Townshend resigned their offices. Lord 
Shelburne, not disheartened by this defection, at once 
filled up the vacancies, and selected William Pitt to be 
his Chancellor of the Exchequer. It seems probable 
that the brilliant victory which Rodney had recently 
gained over the French fleet in the West Indies, had 
led Lord Shelburne to speculate on the chances of con- 
tinuing the war, and perhaps of bringing the American 
colonies into a state of qualified dependence; his 
opinions on this subject were changed soon after the 
retirement of Fox, and prehminaries of peace were 
signed at Paris on the 30th of November, 1782, by 
which England recognized the complete independence 
of the United States of America. 

Lord Shelburne believed that this peace would be 
received with great satisfaction by the nation; when 
Parliament met in December, the announcement that 
the independence of America had been recognized, 
formed a leading topic in the royal speech, and pro- 
voked far less comment than might have been reason- 
ably expected. The premier was thus encouraged to 
pursue the good work he had commenced, and on the 
20th of January, 1783, the preliminaries of a general 
peace were signed at Paris. 

But when Parliament assembled after the Christmas 
holidays, the ministers found themselves exposed to the 
unexpected and violent attacks of forces which they 
had no means of effectually resisting. Fox had entered 
into a coalition with his former rival and gi-eat political 
enemy. Lord North ; and this union gave them a de- 
cided majority in the House of Commons, though it 
10 N 



146 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

destroyed their popularity in the country. It was im- 
possible to forget that Fox had recently described Lord 
North as the gi-eat criminal of the state, whose blood 
ought to expiate the calamities which he had brought 
on the country, and had described him as an equal 
compound of weakness and of wickedness. Yet he 
had now entered into a coalition to force this very man 
into office as a minister, and had selected him before 
the world as a colleague. 

It is not necessary to enter into any examination of 
the arguments by which this coalition was attacked and 
defended, but it may not be amiss to glance at the cir- 
cumstances by which it may be explained. And here 
it is but just to say, that those* who have imputed the 
transaction to Fox's desire for the emoluments of office, 
have done gi-eat injustice to his character. It is ti'ue 
that his pecuniary necessities were urgent and pressing, 
for he had recently sold his Clerkship of the Pells for a 
very inadequate sum ; but if money had been his object, 
he would have remained in office' under the Earl of 
Shelburne, who would gladly have purchased his sup- 
port by the most lucrative office in the gift of the crown. 
Fox sought power, not money ; and as he knew him- 
self to be personally obnoxious to the king, he sought, 
by his alliance with Lord North, to secure himself such 
an amount of parliamentary support as would render 
him independent of the sovereign. 

The Earl of Shelburne having been outvoted by the 
coalition on the 24th January, when the preliminaries of 
the peace, which he had concluded, w^ere condemned 
by a majority of the House of Commons, resigned his 
office. His subordinates, however, held their places, 
and the ministerial straggle was protracted to the be- 
ginning of April, through the king's reluctance to have 
Fox and Lord North forced 'upon him as ministers. 
The coalition finally trium])hed, and a new administra- 
tion was formed, with the Duke of Portland as its nom- 
inal premier; but no pains were taken to conceal the 
dislike with which they were viewed at court, and no 
doubt could be entertained that the coalition was 
thoroughly detested by the coiintry. The remainder 
of the session passed heavily over, and Fox saw that he 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 147 

could only remain in office by adopting some great 
measure, which would give him strength in Parliament 
and character in the country. 

When Parliament reassembled on the 11th of No- 
vember, Fox introduced his celebrated India Bill, a 
gigantic measure, but designed to redress gigantic 
abuses. It is very probable that at least the outlines of 
the plan had been ti-aced by Burke. It proposed to 
transfer the civil government of India to a board of 
seven directors, appointed in the first instance by 
Parliament, but afterward by the crown : while to 
nine directors, chosen by the proprietors of East India 
stock, the regulation of the territorial possessions and 
commercial affairs of the Company was to be committed. 
The measure passed through the lower house with 
triumphant majorities ; but, while it was in progi-ess, 
Lord Thurlow, whom Fox had excluded from office, 
found an opportunity of persuading the king that the 
mighty influence derived from the patronage of India 
would render ministers independent of the crown, and 
reduce the king to a mere cipher in the cabinet. There 
was some truth, though perhaps more malice, in these 
representations, and they induced his majesty to adopt 
a course of very questionable prudence or rectitude. 
Just before the commencement of the debate on the 
second reading in the House of Lords, the king, at a 
private audience, gave Earl Temple a note, written 
with his own hand, stating, in substance, " That his 
majesty would deem those who voted for the bill, not 
only not his friends, but personally his enemies ; and 
that if Lord Temple could put this in still stronger 
words, he was at liberty to do so." The consequence 
was, that the bill was rejected in the Lords by a ma- 
jority of nineteen, and the ministry was virtually at an 
end. Late in the same night, a messenger was sent to 
Mr. Fox and Lord North for their seals of office,- — an 
unusual circumstance, betraying a little too much of 
petulance and passion. Fox, who kept late hours, im- 
mediately complied ; but Lord North was in his bed, 
and asleep ; when roused up, he could not find the 
seals, which he had intrusted to the care of his son and 
private secretary. Colonel North. Some time was lost 



148 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

in making the search, and morning was advanced before 
these symbols of office were sent to the king, who 
transferred them to Earl Temple. 

A new administration was formed, with the youthful 
Pitt as first Lord of the Treasuiy, and Chancellor of 
the Exchequer. A violent parliamentary contest en- 
sued, in which Pitt struggled onward, in spite of the 
majorities which his opponents commanded ; but this 
period will be better developed in the hfe of Pitt; to 
which we refer our readers. Here it must suffice to 
say, that Fox found his majorities gradually diminishing, 
and his unpopularity out of doors increasing in a still 
greater proportion. At length, on the 24th of March, 
the king dissolved the Parliament ; and at the ensuing 
election one hundred and sixty supporters of the coali- 
tion were displaced by the constituencies. Fox's polit- 
ical supremacy was at an end, and the power of his 
rival, Pitt, firmly established. 

Mr. Fox's own return from Westminster was pow- 
erfully contested by Lord Hood and Sir Cecil Wray, 
who had formed a coalition against him. The poll was 
kept open for forty-seven days : and his final success 
was atti'ibuted to the efforts made by the beautiful 
Duchess of Devonshire, and other ladies of rank, to 
obtain votes in his favor. Though elected, he was not 
allowed to take his seat ; the high bailiflt' having refused 
to make a return, as a scrutiny was demanded by the 
unsuccessful candidate. Fox, however, entered Parlia- 
ment as a member for a Scotch borough, and he ob- 
tained a verdict for a thousand pounds against the high 
bailiflf of Westminster. 

The share which Fox took in the impeachment of 
Warren Hastings has been already noticed in the life of 
Burke ; this was for some time the principal object of 
public attention, and as Fox felt but slight interest in 
the matter, he passed several months in comparative 
retirement. In 1787 he supported a motion for a repeal 
of the Test and Corporation Acts with great fervor, and 
with more than his usual ability : the measure was re- 
jected ; but Fox's exertions on the occasion restored to 
him a great share of his former popularity, and in the 
beginning of 1788 he was elected Recorder of Bridge- 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 149 

water. In the course of the summer he made a tour 
on the Continent, accompanied by a lady, to whom he 
was privately married. The respect with which he 
was everywhere received induced him to extend his 
travels ; but, on his way to Rome, he was overtaken by 
a messenger, who brought him an account of the king's 
insanity, and of the probable difficulties which would 
arise in settling the question of a regency. He re- 
turned home with such fatiguing rapidity, that his 
health suffered severely ; but he soon recovered suffi- 
ciently to take an active share in the important discus- 
sions before Parliament. 

Mr. Pitt, while he recognized the claims of the 
Prince of Wales to the regency, insisted that Parlia- 
ment had a right to impose constitutional limitations on 
his exercise of royal power : Fox, united by the ties of 
personal friendship with the heir apparent, was equally 
strenuous for placing the regency in his hands without 
any restriction whatever. A large majority in Parlia- 
ment, and the great body of the nation out of doors, 
supported Mr. Pitt's views ; but the sudden recovery of 
the king put an end to the discussion. In this struggle 
Mr. Fox lost much of his popularity ; but he soon re- 
gained it by being mainly instrumental in preventing a 
war with Russia, by enlarging the powers of juries in 
cases of libel, and by several other popular measures 
which were indebted for their success to his advocacy. 

The breaking out of the French revolution produced 
a powerful effect on the state of parties in England. In 
the life of Burke we have mentioned, that difference of 
opinion on this great subject completely dissevered the 
friendship between that gentleman and Mr. Fox ; the 
latter bitterly mourned the rupture, and was anxious to 
do anything to effect a reconciliation except sacrifice his 
principles, and with nothing short of such a sacrifice 
would Burke be satisfied. 

A large and influential portion of the opposition, em- 
bracing Burke's view of the French revolution, went 
over to Mr. Pitt and zealously supported his warlike 
policy ; Fox and his diminished band still struggled for 
" reform, retrenchment, and peace," though they found 
little support within the walls of Parliament and less 
N-2 



150 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

sympathy outside. In 1793, a number of noblemen 
and gentlemen subscribed large sums to purchase an 
annuity for their leader, whose pecuniary distresses 
were discreditable to their party. It was honorable to 
them to take such a course, but it is much to be regret- 
ted that dissipation had rendered such assistance neces- 
sary. 

Fox's opposition to the minister and the war never 
relaxed ; he seemed to regard the French as contending 
for hberty against the old despotisms of the Continent, 
and with these feelings he proposed as a toast at a 
meeting of the Whig Club, "the sovereign majesty of 
the people." This was so offensive to the king, that he 
erased Fox's name from the list of privy counselors 
with his own hand. Finding all his motions rejected by 
large majorities, he gradually withdrew from public life, 
but in 1800 he was called from his retirement by the 
prospects of a possible peace. He warmly opposed 
Pitt's measure for a union with Ireland, an error 
which he subsequently regretted, and with gi-eater 
wisdom he gave Addington (afterward Lord Sidmouth) 
his zealous support in concluding the treaty of Amiens. 

Dm-ing the short intei-val of peace Mr. Fox visited 
France and was received at Paris with gi-eat enthusiasm. 
He had an interview with Bonaparte, then First Consul, 
who complimented him as the consistent advocate of 
peace, the best friend of his country, the benefactor of 
Europe and general humanity. Exaggei'ated as this 
praise appears, there is no reason to doubt Napoleon's 
sincerity ; to the last hour of his life he declared his 
belief that if the life of Mr. Fox had been spared, many 
of the calamities of the long war between England and 
France would have been averted. 

Soon after Mr. Fox's return to England hostilities 
were renewed. As he disapproved of the war he seclu- 
ded himself in his country residence at St. Anne's Hill ; 
but when the Addington administration was falling to 
pieces from its internal weakness, he again appeared in 
public, and hopes were entertained of forming a ministry 
in which both he and his gi'eat rival Pitt should be in- 
cluded. We shall have occasion to recur to this crisis 
Avhen wi'iting Mr. Pitt's life ; here we need only say 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 151 

that the king's reluctance to receive Fox could not be 
overcome, and that the Grenvilles, doubting Pitt's sin- 
cerity, formed a coalition with the excluded party. 
While these affairs occupied the political circles. Fox 
took an active part in the impeachment of Lord Mel- 
ville, and most eloquently supported the petition of the 
Irish Parliament praying for emancipation. 

On the death of Mr. Pitt in January, 1806, Mr. Fox 
once more resumed office as Secretary for Foreign Af- 
fairs, under Lord Grenville as premier. One of his 
earliest measures w^as to obtain the condemnation of the 
slave trade from both houses of Parliament. But the 
great object of his wishes, the restoration of peace with- 
out any disgraceful concessions to French ambition, ap-. 
peared to be unattainable. This disappointment, the 
fierce opposition he had to encounter in Parliament, and 
the difficulties arising from the divisions in the cabinet, 
proved too much for a frame long enfeebled by late 
hours and dissipation. He died at Chiswick on the 13tli 
of September, 1806, and was buried at the expense of 
his friends in Westminster Abbey, close to the remains 
of his illustrious rival. 

Beloved as a man, admired as an orator, and sup- 
ported by a powerful party as a statesman, Fox must 
have taken the foremost place in the conduct of public 
affairs, had not his early indiscretions exposed him to 
the censure of the virtuous, and the pecuniary embar- 
rassments which they occasioned led to unfair suspicions 
of the purity of his motives. As an author, he only 
produced a fragment of a History of James II., quite 
unworthy of his fame. Want of prudence was his 
gi-eat failing ; it led him, early in life, to throw away, 
with reckless prodigality, that independence which would 
have given stability to his political position, both in his 
own estimation and in the opinion of his countiymen. 
Wanting this, he was often regarded as the slave of the 
party which professed to recognize him as leader, and 
he was forced to look for that support from coalitions 
and compliances which he might have won from the 
unbought approbation of his countiymen. 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 



Though eminent qualities are generally necessary to 
the acquisition of permanent fame, the life of Franklin 
affords signal proof that moderate talents judiciously di- 
rected, when aided by industry and perseverance, will 
enable a man to render signal services to his country 
and his kind, and give him a claim to the homage of 
posterity. He was the fifteenth child of a tallow-chand- 
ler in Boston, where he was born January 17th, 1706. 
His father at first intended to educate him for the 
church, but finding that the expense was likely to ex- 
ceed his means, he took the boy home after he had ac- 
quired little more than the elements of learning, to 
assist him in his own trade. The boy greatly disliked 
the nature of the employment, and was very anxious to 
become a sailor : fortunately for him his friends con- 
trolled his inclinations ; instead of going to sea he was 
apprenticed to his eldest brother, James, who was a 
printer. Franklin recoirds, in his Memoirs, that though 
he had only at this time entered his twelfth year, he 
paid so much attention to his business, that he soon 
became proficient in all its details, and, by the quickness 
with which he executed his work, obtained a little 
leisure, which he devoted to study. His studious 
habits were noticed by a gentleman named Adams, who 
had a large collection of books, which he placed at the 
disposal of Franklin ; among these were some volumes 
of poetry, which fired his emulation, and he began to 
compose little pieces in verse. Two of these were 
printed by his brother and sold as street-ballads, but 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 153 

they were, as he informs us, wretched doggi-el, and 
the ridicule thrown on them by his father deterred him 
from similar attempts. But, though he laid aside poetiy, 
h© did not abandon his ambition to become a good Eng- 
lish writer ; he studied the art of composition with great 
labor, being rewai'ded by the consciousness of improve- 
ment. 

Franklin's self-denial and power of control over his 
appetites were not less remarkable than his industry. 
Having, at the age of sixteen^ read a work which recom- 
mended vegetable diet, he determined to adopt the sys- 
tem, and undertook to provide for himself upon his broth- 
er's allowing him one-half of the ordinary expenses of 
board. On this pittance he not only supported him- 
self, but contrived, by great abstemiousness, to save a 
portion of it, which he devoted to the purchase of books. 
He soon had an opportunity of testing his literary pro- 
gress ; in 1720 his brother commenced the publication 
of a newspaper, the second which had appeared in 
America, called the " New England Courant." This 
paper, at a time when periodicals were rare, attracted 
most of the literary men of Boston to the house of the 
proprietor ; their conversation, and particularly their re- 
marks on the authorship of the various articles contrib- 
uted to the paper, revived Franklin's literary ambition : 
he sent some communications to the journal in a feigned 
hand ; they were inserted, and he tells us that "he had 
the exquisite pleasure to find that they met with appro- 
bation, and that, in the various conjectures respecting 
the author, no one was mentioned who did not enjoy a 
high reputation in the country for talents and genius." 
He was thus encouraged to reveal his secret to his broth- 
er, but he did not obtain the respect and fraternal in- 
dulgence which he had anticipated. James Franklin 
was a man of violent temper ; he treated Benjamin with 
gi-eat harshness, and often proceeded to the extremity 
of blows. 

An article which appeared in the Courant, having 
given offence to the authorities, James was thrown into 
prison for a month, and the management of the paper 
devolved on Benjamin. He conducted it with great 
spirit, but with questionable prudence, for he made it 



154 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

the vehicle of sharp attacks on the principal persons in 
the colony. This gave such offence, that when James 
was liberated ft*om prison, an arbitrary order was issued 
that he should no longer print the paper called the 
" New England Courant." To evade this order, it was 
arranged that Benjamin's indentures should be canceled, 
in order that the paper might be published in his name, 
but at the same time a secret contract was made be- 
tween the parties, by which James was entitled to his 
brother's services during the unexpired period of ap- 
prenticeship. A fresh quarrel, however, soon arose, 
and Benjamin separated from his brother, taking what 
he has confessed to be an unfair advantage of the cir- 
cumstance that the contract could not be safely brought 
forward. 

The circumstance produced an unfavorable impres- 
sion on the minds of the printers in Boston, and Frank- 
lin, finding it impossible to obtain employment in his 
native town, resolved to seek it in New-York. Aware 
that his father would be opposed to this measure, he 
was compelled to sell his books to raise money for de- 
fraying the expenses of his journey. America was at 
this time very thinly inhabited ; there were no public 
conveyances on the roads, the inns were few, and their 
ajccommodations miserable ; but Franklin had accus- 
tomed himself to hard fare, and he did not allow the 
inconvenience he endured to interfere with his enjoy- 
ment of new scenery. On reaching New- York he 
found that the printers there had no occasion for his 
services, and he was recommended to continue his jour- 
ney to Philadelphia. His chief annoyance on the road 
arose from the inquisitiveness which has always formed 
a leading trait in the character of the Americans. To 
put an end to this plague, he took care to give a concise 
account of his history at every place where he stopped, 
so humorously worded as to convey an oblique censure 
on impertinent curiosity, and he found that this contriv- 
ance put an end to all further inquiry. 

The account which he gives of his first arrival in Phil- 
adelphia is very curious and interesting : — 

"I was in my working dress, my best clothes being 
to come from New-York by sea. I was covered with 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 155 

dirt, my pockets were filled with shirts and stockings ; 
I was unacquainted with a single soul in the place, and 
knew not where to seek a lodging. Fatigued with walk- 
ing and rowing, and having passed the night without 
sleep, I was extremely hungiy, and all my money con- 
sisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a shilling's-worth of 
coppers, which I gave to the boatmen for my passage. 
At first they refused it on account of my having rowed ; 
but I insisted on their taking it. Man is sometimes 
more generous when he has little money than when he 
has plenty, perhaps to prevent its being thought that he 
has but little. I walked toward the top of the street, 
gazing alout till near Market-street, where I met a boy 
with bread. I had often made a meal of dry bread, and 
inquiring where he had bought it, I went immediately 
to the baker's he directed me to. I asked for biscuits, 
meaning such as we had at Boston : that sort, it seems, 
was not made in Philadelphia. I then asked for a three- 
penny loaf, and was told they had none. Not knowing 
the different prices, nor the names of the different sorts 
of bread, I told him to give me three-pennyworth of any 
sort. He gave me accordingly three great puffy rolls. 
I was surprised at the quantity, but took it, and having 
no room in my pockets walked off with a roll under each 
arm and eating the other. Thus I went up Market- 
street as far as South-street, passing by the door of Mr. 
Read, my future wife's father, when she, standing at 
the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly 
did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then I 
turned and went down Chesnut-street, and part of Wal- 
nut-street, eating my roll all the way ; and, coming 
round, found myself again at Market-street wharf, near 
the boat I came in, to which I went for a draught of the 
river water, and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave 
the other two to a woman and her child that came down 
the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go 
further. Thus refreshed, I walked again up the sti-eet, 
which by this time had many clean-dressed people in it, 
who were all walking the same way. I joined them, 
and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of the 
Quakers near the market. I sat down among them, 
and, after looking round awhile and hearing nothing 



156 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

said, being very drowsy through labor and want of rest 
the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and continued so 
till the meeting broke up, when some one was kind 
enough to rouse me. This, therefore, was the first 
house I was in or slept in in Philadelphia. ^' 

Having obtained employment from a printer named 
Keimer, Franklin continued to devote his leisure hours 
to literature. The respectability of his appearance and 
the superior tone of his conversation began soon to be 
remarked ; they led to his being introduced to several 
eminent men, and particularly to Sir William Keith, the 
Governor of Pennsylvania, who frequently invited him 
to his table. Keith urged Franklin to commence busi- 
ness on his own account, and, when the young man had 
ineffectually applied for assistance to his father in Bos- 
ton, he advised him to go to London and form a connec- 
tion with some of the great publishing houses, promising 
him letters of credit and recommendation. Franklin 
sailed for London, but the promised letters were never 
sent, and he found himself, on his arrival in England, 
thrown entirely on his own resources. 

Having soon obtained employment, he exhibited to 
his fellow-workmen an edifying example of industry and 
temperance, by which many of them profited. He also 
pubfished a little work of a skeptical tendency, which 
procured him introductions to some eminent men, but 
which he afterwards lamented as one of the greatest 
errors of his life. After remaining about eighteen months 
in England, he returned to Philadelphia as a clerk to Mr. 
Denham, and, on the death of that gentleman, went back 
once more to his old employer, Keimer. About this 
time he established a debating society, or club of persons 
of his own age, for the discussion of subjects connected 
with morals, politics, and natural philosophy. These 
discussions gradually assumed political importance, and 
had a great effect in stimulating the public mind during 
the war of independence. 

Having quarreled with Keimer, Franklin entered into 
partnership with a young man named Meredith, and 
commenced publishing a paper in opposition to one 
which had been started by his former employer. Mere- 
dith proving negligent of business, Franklin was enabled 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 157 

by his friends to dissolve the partnership, and to take 
the entire business into his own hands. His steady 
adherence to habits of industry and economy had brought 
him comparative wealth ; he resolved to marry Miss 
Read, whose name has been mentioned in the account 
of his first arrival in Philadelphia, though she had, 
during his absence in England, been united to a man 
named Rogers, who abandoned her and fled to the 
West Indies. This marriage was very severely cen- 
sured, because it was far from being certain that the 
first husband was dead. 

In 1732 Franklin began the publication of "Poor 
Richard's Almanac," which soon became celebrated for 
its important lessons of practical morality. These were 
subsequently collected in a little volume, and are still 
highly esteemed both in England and America. His 
high character for probity and intelligence induced the 
citizens of Philadelphia to entrust him with the manage- 
ment of public aflfairs ; he was appointed clerk of the 
general assembly, postmaster and alderman, and was 
put by the governor into the commission of the peace. 
All the hours he could spare from business he now 
devoted to objects of local utility, and the city of Phila- 
delphia is indebted to him for some of its finest buildings 
and best institutions. 

When the war which raged between France and 
England had extended, in 1744, to their American colo- 
nies, Franklin took an active part in providing means for 
the defence of the country, and frustrating the plans of 
conquest which the French had formed. The Society 
of Friends, commonly called Quakers, having uniformly 
protested against the legality of war under any circum- 
stances, it was found difficult to obtain from the assembly, 
in which that body predominated, a supply of money 
for the purchase of military stores. A request for a 
quantity of gunpowder was peremptorily rejected, but 
a vote was passed, granting 2,0001. " for the purchase of 
wheat or other grain.'''' The governor declared that 
" other grain" meant gunpowder, and applied the money 
accordingly. Franklin suggested that an application 
should be made to the insurance companies, to aid in 
the purchase of fire-engines, which, by similar liberality 
O 



158 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

of interpretation, might be held to include muskets and 
artillery. 

As his wealth increased he obtained leisure to devote 
himself to the study of philosophy, and to take a leading 
part in political life. 

We shall first look at his philosophical labors, by 
which his name first became known in England. His 
attention was drawn to the subject of electricity in 1746, 
by some experiments exhibited by Dr. Spence, who 
had come to Boston from Scotland. These isolated 
experiments were made with no regard to system, and 
led to no results. A glass tube, and some other ap- 
paratus that had been sent to Franklin by a friend in 
London, enabled him to repeat and verify these ex- 
periments. He soon began to devise new forms of 
investigation for himself, and at length made the great 
discovery which may be said to be the foundation of 
electi-ical science, that there is a positive and negative 
state of electricity. By this fact he explained the phe- 
nomenon of the Leyden phial, which at that time 
excited gi-eat attention in Europe, and had foiled the 
sagacity of its principal philosophers. In the course of 
his investigations he was led to suspect the identity of 
lightning and the electric fluid ; and he resolved to test 
this happy conjecture by a direct experiment. His 
apparatus was simply a paper-kite with a key attached 
to the tail. Having raised the kite during a thunder- 
storm, he watched the result with gi-eat anxiety ; after 
an intei-val of painful suspense, he saw the filaments of 
the string exhibit by their motion signs of electrical 
action ; he drew in the kite, and, presenting his knuc- 
kles to the key, received a sti'ong spark, which of course 
decided the success of the experiment. Repeated 
sparks were drawn from the key, a phial was charged, 
a shock given, and the identity of lightning with the 
electric fluid demonsti-ated beyond all possibility of 
doubt. 

Franklin had from time to time transmitted accounts 
of his electricr.l experiments to his friend, Mr. Collinson, 
in England, in order that they should be laid before the 
Council of the Royal Society ; but, as they were not 
published in the Transactions of that learned body, 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 159 

Collinson gave copies of the communications to Cave, 
for insertion in the " Gentleman's Magazine." Cave 
resolved to publish them in a separate form, and the 
work, soon after its appearance, became generally rec- 
ognized as the text book of electrical science. It was 
translated into French, German, and Latin; the author's 
experiments were repeated, and verified by the leading 
philosophers of France, Germany, and even Russia; 
the Royal Society atoned for its former tardiness by a 
hearty recognition of' their value, and Franklin was 
elected a member of their body without solicitation or 
expense. The universities of St. Andrews, Edinburgh, 
and Oxford subsequently conferred upon him the hon- 
orary title of Doctor of Laws. 

We must pass more briefly over Franklin's political 
career. In 1753 he was appointed Deputy Post-master 
of the American colonies. The post-office, which had 
previously supplied no revenue to the government, 
became very productive under his management, and 
yielded three times as much as the post-office in Ire- 
land. Nor was this the only service he rendered to 
the government. At the time of Braddock's unfortunate 
expedition against the French and Indians, he provided 
conveyances for the ti'oops and stores at his own risk ; 
he took a leading part in obtaining a militia bill, and he 
proposed a plan for the union of the several colonies in 
a common system of defence against the Indians. These 
measures greatly increased his influence and popularity ; 
but the measures were not wholly approved by the 
government, as they tended to raise in the colonies a 
feeling of independence. 

Pennsylvania was at this period a proprietary govern- 
ment, and the proprietary body claimed exemption 
from taxation. In consequence of the disputes to which 
these claims gave rise, he was sent to England by the 
General Assembly, as agent for the provinces. He per- 
formed his duties with such zeal and ability, that he 
was appointed agent for the provinces of Massachusetts, 
Georgia, and Maryland ; and, on his return to America 
in 1762, received not only the thanks of the House of 
Assembly, but a gi'ant of five thousand pounds. Pre- 
vious to his return he made a short visit to the con- 



160 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

tineht, and was everywhere received with great honor, 
especially at the court of Louis XV. 

In the year 1764, the American colonies, alarmed at 
the system of taxation with which they were menaced 
by the British, resolved that Franklin should be sent to 
England, no longer as an agent, but as the general rep- 
resentative of the states. In this character he arrived 
in liondon about forty years after his first appearance 
in that city as a distressed mechanic. His own mind 
was strongly impressed by the conti'ast ; he went to 
the printing-office where he had worked, introduced 
himself to the men employed there, and joined in a 
little festival in honor of printing. He officially presented 
to Mr. Grenville a petition against the Stamp Act, but, 
finding that the minister was not deterred from his 
purpose, he zealously exerted himself to organize an 
opposition to the measure. When it was proposed to 
repeal the bill in the following year, Franklin was ex- 
amined before the House of Commons : the effect of his 
evidence was decisive, and the Stamp Act was repealed. 

But, though this measure was withdrawn, the Eng- 
lish government did not abandon its schemes for obtain- 
ing revenue from America ; and the consequent disputes 
produced an increasing alienation between the parent 
country and the colonies, which Franklin long labored 
to avert. The government naturally believed him preju- 
diced in favor of his native land, and therefore paid less 
attention to his remonsti'ances than they merited ; still 
he might probably have been enabled to act the part of 
mediator, had not an act of questionable propriety placed 
him in such an attitude of hostility to the king and min- 
istry, that any reconciliation became impossible. 

The ministerial resolution of coercing America had 
been greatly strengthened by the representations of the 
colonial govehiors, who showed lamentable ignorance, 
both of the spirit and the resources of the people over 
whom they niled. Among those mistaken men, Hutch- 
inson and Oliver, the governor and deputy-governor of 
Massachusetts, held a conspicuous place. Their letters, 
urging the ministers to crush the resistance of the colo- 
nists, having been clandestinely abstracted from a public 
office, were placed in Franklin's hands ; he transmitted 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. IgJ 

them to America for publication, where their appear- 
ance threw the whole country into a flame. In England 
the excitement was almost equally violeut, and it re- 
qmred no small degice of self-possession to present to 
the ministry the indignant address of the assembly of 
Massachusetts, lounded on these documents. When the 
petition was debated before the Privy Council, FranUin 
was present Wedderbm-n, the solicitor-general, as- 
saded him with the most coarse and virulent invective, 
which the philosopher heard without movhig a muscle 
ot his countenance. An anecdote, however, is related 
on good authority vvhich proves that his calmness was 
simulated : when he returned to his lodgings, he took o-ff 
the court-dress he had worn, and vowed that he would 
never put it on again until he had obtained revenge. It 
was m this dress that, as plenipotentiary for the United 
fetates, he signed the treaty of independence, which for- 
evei- severed the American colonies from Great Britain 
ihe rejection of the petition from Massachusetts was 
lollowed by the removal of Franklin from the office of 
postmaster-general, and the commencement of a chan- 
ceiy suit against him respecting the letters. Attempts 
were at the same time made to win him over to the side 
of the government by ofl^rs of high honors and Hberal 
emoluments : but threats and promises were alike una- 
vailing to divert him from his course. He lingered in 
i^ngland, hoping that some turn in public affaii^s would 
avert the latal necessity of war ; but when the petition 
ot the American Congress was rejected, and Lord Chat- 
ham s plan of reconciliation outvoted, he resolved to 
retui-n home and share the fortunes of his countrymen. 
His departure was hastened by the intelligence that the 
ministers intended to arrest him on a charge of foment- 
ing rebellion in the colonies ; he narrowly escaped this 
danger, and on landing in America, he was elected a 
member of Congress. 

Soon after the declaration of independence was issued, 
JJr. JH ranklin was sent as ambassador to France, to so- 
'S'J/'i °'' ^^'"^ "'^^"^ republic. On his first arrival, in 
1776, he was not officially received ; but when the intel- 
hgence of the English losses had given courage to the 
J^ rench court, negotiations were formally commenced 
n o 2 



162 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

and on February 7, 1778, he had the honor of signing 
the first treaty between the United States and a foreign 
power. He remained at the French court as ambassa- 
dor until the end of the war, when, as an American 
plenipotentiary, he signed the treaty of Paris, by which 
Great Britain recognized the independence of the Uni- 
ted States. At the close of the negotiations (November, 
1782), he was anxious to be recalled ; but his diplomatic 
services were too highly valued to be spared, and he 
remained at Paris three years longer, during which 
period he negotiated treaties with Sweden and with 
Prussia. His residence in France w^as cheered by the 
enthusiasm with which he was regarded by all classes, 
particularly persons of hterature and science ; his de- 
parture from that city was lamented as a general loss to 
society. 

Honors of every kind awaited him on his return to 
his native land ; he was appointed President of the State 
of Pennsylvania, and a member of the Federal Conven- 
tion, by which the American Constitution was framed. 
But old age, and a painful disease, to which he had been 
long subject, compelled him to retire into the bosom of 
his family. Notwithstanding his sufferings, he preserved 
his affections and faculties unimpaired to the last, and 
died tranquilly, April 17th, 1790. The American Con- 
gress, and the National Assembly of France, went both 
into mourning on receiving the intelligence of his death. 

Franklin's powers were useful rather than brilliant ; 
his philosophical discoveries were the result of patience 
and perseverance ; with a warmer imagination, he would 
probably have been misled by speculative theory, like 
so many of his contemporaries. His industry and his 
temperance were the sources of his early success, and 
they nurtured in him the spirit of that independence 
which was the leading chai-acteristic of his private and 
public career. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



Among the writers of the last century, there are few 
whose works have been more extensively read, or more 
generally admn-ed, than those of Goldsmith ; and per- 
haps there is none whose writings are more inconsistent 
With the conduct and career of the man. He was one 
ot those who, having adopted literature as a profession, 
tound It the most toilsome and least profitable of all the 
avenues to fame and fortune, but still clung to it with a 
persevermg affection, which in any other pursuit would 

oiT "". ^on" "" r^^' ■'■^'^''^- H« ^^^« born November 
29th, 1729, at the village of Pallas, in the county of 
Longford, m Ireland, where his father officiated as cler- 
gyman. Oliver was the second son, and as his father's 
income was scanty, he was originally intended for some 
mercantile employment. In childhood he was remark- 
ably shrewd and observant, exhibiting a natural turn for 
liumor, and a shrewd appreciation of character. He 
has affectionately and faithfully portrayed his father as 
the village pastor in the " Deserted Village ;" among 
other traits, he particularly mentions— 

" gis house vi^as known to all the vagrant train, 
He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain ; 
i he long-remember'd beggar was his guest, 
Whose beard descending swept his aged chest." 

The vagrant beggars of Ireland were, and still to some 
extent are, a very peculiar race ; they are, in general, 
capital story-tellers, acquainted with the histories of all 
the tamihes in a neighborhood, great retailers of anec- 



164 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

dotes, and able to display in their narratives a strange 
blending of fun and pathos. Oliver, no doubt, derived 
many of the peculiar characteristics of his lighter works 
from his early intercourse with these amusing vagrants ; 
and the impression they produced was strengthened by 
the master of the village school, from whom he learned 
the rudiments of his education. He, too, is sketched in 
the " Deseited Village," as the schoolmaster ; and the 
poet has not forgotten a characteristic trait of a class of 
Irish teachers, which has now disappeared, — 

" Full virell they laughed, with counterfeited glee. 
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he." 

This schoolmaster had been an old soldier, and his 
tales of adventure in foreign lands are supposed to have 
imparted to his pupil much of those wandering and un- 
settled habits for which he was remarkable through life. 
Oliver's friends soon discovered that he had an ardent 
taste for literature, and that his turn of mind was un- 
suited to the regularity of business ; they raised a sub- 
scription to defray the expenses of his education, and, 
after he had passed through the usual routine of classi- 
cal studies at school, he entered the University of Dub- 
lin, as a sizar, in 1744. Sizarships in Dublin were ob- 
tained by competition at a severe public examination, 
and Goldsmith must have studied very closely to obtain 
one of those places at the early age of fifteen. His tutor 
was the Rev. Mr. Wilder, who has been rather unfairly 
described as a man of harsh temper and violent passions. 
The truth is, that he had been very dissipated when an 
under-graduate, and had involved himself in serious diffi- 
culties by his extravagance ; on obtaining a fellowship, 
he became a very rigid disciplinarian, and was particu- 
larly skilful in detecting the evasions which he had often 
practiced himself. 

Goldsmith paid but slight attention to his academical 
studies ; he was idle, improvident, and negligent of dis- 
cipline. Hence he was continually at variance with his 
rigid tutor, who once struck him in the presence of a 
party of young friends of both sexes, whom Goldsmith 
had invited to a dance and supper in his rooms. There 
must, however, have been some other provocation ; the 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 165 

entertainment could not have been given in Goldsmith's 
own apartments, wliich were in the garret of an old 
building recently pulled down. If Wilder lived out of 
college, as was then usual with many of the fellows, 
Goldsmith may probably have ventured to make use of 
his tutor's rooms without the ceremony of asking per- 
mission. This explanation was the tradition of Trinity 
College, and it is not inconsistent with the habits of the 
time and of the place. 

Oliver was deeply offended by this public insult ; he 
sold or pawned his books and clothes, quitted college and 
wandered about the countiy without prospects and with- 
out resources. Notwithstanding the proverbial hospi- 
tality of the Irish peasantry, he suffered such extremities 
of hunger that a handful of green peas, given him by a 
girl at a wake, appeared a luxurious meal : still this 
wandering life had such charms, that he persevered in 
vagrancy for several months before he made his family 
acquainted with his situation. Henry, his elder brother, 
a pious and respectable clergyman, came to his assist- 
ance, supplied him with clothes, reconciled him to his 
tutor, and enabled him to take his degree with some 
credit. His friends now pressed him to enter the church, 
but he refused, and became tutor in a private family, a 
situation of which he soon gi'ew weary. Once more he 
became a vagrant, but, after wandering about for six 
or seven weeks, he returned to his mother on a little 
horse named Fiddleback, which was not worth twenty 
shiUings. His account of his adventures was character- 
istic; he stated that he had gone to Cork on a good 
horse, which he had sold to pay his passage to America, 
but that the vessel in which he had taken his place had 
sailed while he was viewing the curiosities of the city, 
leaving him only as much money as sufficed to purchase 
Fiddleback, and reach the house of an old acquaintance 
on his road home. This nominal friend, however, re- 
ceived him coldly, and in order to evade giving him 
pecuniary relief, recommended him to sell Fiddleback, 
and purchase another steed which would cost him no- 
thing in food or provender. When Goldsmith asked for 
an explanation, he presented him with an oaken staff 
which he took from under the bed. Fortunately a geu- 



166 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

erous stranger came in at this moment, and, on learning 
the circumstances, he gave Oliver a sum sufficient to 
take him home, without being compelled to part from 
his beloved Fiddleback. 

The Rev. Thomas Conterine, Goldsmith's uncle by- 
affinity, who always took a generous interest in his wel- 
fare, advanced him a sufficient sum to take him to Lon- 
don, and obtain his admission as a law student at the 
Temple ; but at Dublin he met with a sharper, who 
tempted him to the gaming table, so that he once more 
returned home without a penny. His friends forgave 
him again, and sent him to Edinburgh to study medicine. 
He reached this city in 1752, and remained there about 
two years, but he had no favorable recollections of his 
residence in Scotland ; he was thoughtless and he was 
cheated, he was poor and he was nearly stai"ved. At 
length having completed the usual courses of lectures, 
his generous uncle provided him with the means for fin- 
ishing his studies at Leyden. With the usual eccen- 
ti'icity that marked his movements. Goldsmith, to reach 
this city, took his passage in a vessel which was bound 
for Bordeaux ! After the vessel had sailed from Leith, 
she was forced by stress of weather to put into the mouth 
of the Tyne ; some Scotchmen having been found on 
board her who had been engaged in raising men for the 
service of the Pretender, all the passengers. Goldsmith 
included, were arrested and committed to the jail of 
Newcastle. His imprisonment lasted a fortnight, and 
during its continuance the vessel sailed without him. 
He was thus saved from premature death, for the ship 
was subsequently wi'ecked at the mouth of the Garonne, 
where all on board perished. 

At Leyden he was as thoughtless and improvident 
as he had been everywhere else ; his scanty stock of 
money was wasted at the gaming table, and he was left 
without a shilling. In this hopeless condition he com- 
menced a tour on foot through Europe, with one shirt 
in his pocket and a devout reliance on Providence. 
" My learning," he said, " procured me a favorable re- 
ception at most of the religious houses I visited, and 
whenever I approached a peasant's house I took out my 
flute and played one of my most merry tunes, and that 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 167 

generally procured me not only a lodging, but subsist- 
ence for the next day ; this, however, was not the case 
with the rich, who generally despised both me and my 
music." It is much to be regretted that Goldsmith 
never published any account of his travels beyond a few 
hints in various parts of his works ; a tour performed in 
such singular circumstances, by so good a judge of hu- 
man nature, would have been one of the most entertain- 
ing books in the world. He probably received some 
assistance from home, as he stopped for six months to 
study at Padua, and took his medical degree at Louvain. 
The death of his generous uncle induced him to return 
to England. After a painful journey he reached Lon- 
don in a state of deplorable poverty, and made several 
vain efforts to obtain the situation of assistant to an apo- 
thecary. At length he became an assistant in a school 
at Peckham, a situation of great drudgery, which he has 
thus described : — " I was u}) early and late ; I was brow- 
beat by the master : hated for my ugly face by the mis- 
tress ; worried by the boys within ; and never permitted 
to stir out to seek civility abroad." From this degrada- 
tion he was rescued by his generous friend Dr. Sleigh, 
who supplied him with the means of setting up in his 
profession as a physician. 

Literature, about the same time, afforded him a more 
congenial resource ; he published some criticisms in the 
" Monthly Review," which procured him a permanent 
engagement from the proprietor. He produced also a 
weekly pamphlet, called " The Bee," an " Inquiry into 
the Present State of Learning in Europe," and he con- 
tributed several essays to the "Public Ledger," where 
his " Citizen of the World" appeared under the title of 
the " Chinese Letters." He was, however, often in 
distress, and it was under the pressure of necessity that 
he produced the most popular of his works, the " Vicar 
of Wakefield." The circumstances attending the sale 
of this work to its fortunate publisher, are too singular 
to be told in any other words than those of Doctor 
Johnson, as reported by his faithful chronicler, Bos- 
well : — 

" I received one morning a message from poor Gold- 
smith, that he was in great distress, and, as it was not 



? 



168 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

in his power to come to me, begging that I would come 
to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and 
promised to come to him directly. I accordingly went 
as soon as I was dressed, and found that his landlady 
had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a vio- 
lent passion. I perceived that he had already changed 
my guinea and had got a bottle of Madeira and a glass 
before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he 
would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by 
which he might be extricated. He then told me that 
he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced 
to me. I looked into it and saw its merits, told the 
landlady I should soon return, and having gone to a book- 
seller (Mr. Newbery, of Saint Paul's Church-yard), sold 
it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, 
and he discharged his rent, not without rating his land- 
lady in a high tone for having used him so ill." 

Newbery, the purchaser of the Vicar of Wakefield, 
(was the,4bunder of the establishment at which this vol- 
ume is published,\and was one of the first to raise the 
character of juvenile literature. He was a man of worth 
as well as of wealth, and the frequent patron of distressed 
men of letters. When he completed the bargain, — 
which he probably entered into partly from compassion, 
and partly from deference to Johnson's judgment, he 
had so little confidence in the value of his purchase, that 
the " Vicar of Wakefield" remained in manuscript until 
the publication of the " Traveler" had established the 
]-eputation of the author. This beautiful ])oem appear- 
ed in 1765, and immediately procured for Goldsmith the 
fame to which he had long aspired. He became ac- 
quainted with Burke, Reynolds, Cumberland, Garrick, 
Coleman, and the leading literary men of his age. Lord 
Nugent introduced him to the Earl of Northumberland, 
then Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland ; but the only favor 
that Goldsmith asked was the advancement of his broth- 
er in the Church. His own favorite project was to be 
employed by the government to examine the interior of 
Asia. " Of all men," said Dr. Johnson, " Goldsmith is 
the most unfit to go out on such an inquiry ; for he is 
utterly ignorant of such arts as we alread}^ possess, and, 
consequently, could not know what would be an acces- 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 169 

sion to our present stock of mechanical knowledge. He 
would bring home a grinding-barrow, and think that he 
had furnished a wonderful improvement." 

Having laid aside his ti'aveling projects, Goldsmith 
devoted himself to literature with gi-eat earnestness, and 
produced several works on history and biography with 
surprising rapidity ; but though his labors were largely 
remunerated, his improvident habits and passion for 
gaming involved him in difficulties from which he was 
never completely extricated. 

In 1769 he published the "Deserted Village," one 
of the most popular poems in the English language, 
which greatly extended his reputation. He also pro- 
duced two comedies : "The Good-natured Man," which 
was but partially successful ; and "She stoops to Con- 
quer," the most successful that had for many years been 
produced on the stage. The leading incident of the 
piece was borrowed from a blunder of the author him- 
self, who, while traveling in Ireland, mistook a gentle- 
man's house for an inn. Sir W. Scott records his knowl- 
edge of a similar mistake, and a third instance occurred 
not many years ago in the south of Ireland. 

Though amiable in temper, and benevolent to all who 
needed his assistance. Goldsmith often exhibited traits 
of a jealous and irritable spirit. When annoyed by a 
lampoon which appeared in a newspaper, he attempted 
to inflict personal chastisement on the editor, but was 
overmatched and soundly beaten. His mortification was 
not a little increased by the sport which the incident 
aftbrded to the newspaper writers of the time. 

One of his last publications was " A History of the 
Earth and Animated Nature," in six volumes, a work of 
great beauty of style, abounding with excellent reflec- 
tions and illustrations, but having no pretensions to sci- 
entific accuracy. It was of this work that Dr. Johnson 
said " He is now writing a Natural History, and will 
make it as agreeable as a Persian tale." He had formed 
another project, which he had much at heart, a "Uni- 
versal Dictionary of the Arts and Sciences," to which 
all his friends had engaged to contribute. But the pe- 
riod of his labors was now near. He had for some time 
been subject to fits of the stranguiy, brought on by too 
P 



170 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

severe application to sedentary labors ; and one of these 
attacks, aggravated by mental disti-ess, produced a fever. 
In spite of the remonstrances of his medical attendants, 
he took a large dose of James's Powders, which gi-eatly 
hastened his dissolution. He died on the 4th of April, 
1774, and was privately interred in the Temple burial- 
ground ; but a monument to his memoiy was erected 
by subscription in Westminster Abbey, with a suitable 
inscription in Latin, written by Dr. Johnson. 

We have not disguised Goldsmith's failings as a man ; 
the errors of genius are full of solemn warning, for they 
show that the highest qualities of the mind cannot atone 
for moral obliquities. The folly of submitting to impo- 
sition may, however, be well balanced with the univer- 
sality of his benevolence ; and the wit which his wi'itings 
evince more than counterbalance his reputed deficien- 
cies in conversation, if these could be of consequence to 
present or future generations. "As a writer," says 
Dr. Johnson, " he was of the most distinguished class. 
AVhatever he composed, he did it better than any other 
man could. And whether we regard him as a poet, as 
a comic ^vl•iter, or as a historian, he was one of the first 
writers of his time, and will ever stand in the foremost 
class." 



HENRY GRATTAN. 



Henry Grattan, the most illustrious of Irish patri- 
ots, was born in Dublin, July 3rd, 1776. His father 
was recorder of the city of Dublin, and during several 
years the representative of that city in the Irish Par- 
liament. The elder Grattan was a zealous supporter 
of the system then pursued by the English Government 
in Ireland ; but his son's attention was early directed to 
the evils of that system by his uncle, Richard Marlay, 
who had served as colonel at the battle of Munden, and 
after retiring from the army had devoted himself to the 
social improvement of his native land. At school and 
college Henry Grattan was distinguished as a zealous 
and diligent student. After quitting the Dublin Uni- 
versity he came to London, and entered the Middle 
Temple, to qualify himself for the profession of the bar. 
He was fond of attending the debates in Parliament, and 
he became an enthusiastic admirer of the eloquence of 
Lord Chatham, who was then in the zenith of his glory. 
Early in life he lost both his parents : his father, dis- 
pleased by their difference in politics, alienated from him 
the paternal mansion, and his mother, to whom he was 
fondly attached, died so suddenly that she had not time 
to take the measures necessary for securing the re- 
version to a landed property which she intended to leave 
her son. 

Mr. Grattan returned to Ireland when the popular 
party was engaged in a fierce controversy with the 
lord-lieutenant. Lord Townsend. He immediately 
joined their ranks, ond contributed largely to the various 



172 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

publications in which the conduct of the government 
was assaulted. When called lo the bar, the future 
statesman did not exhibit any great powers as a lawyer, 
but as a politician he had acquired such fame that Lord 
Charlemont, the eminent leader of the popular party, 
brought him into Parliament for the borough of Charle- 
mont. England was at this period involved in the 
American war, and there Avas reason to apprehend that 
if the grievances of Ireland remained unredressed, that 
countiy might follow the example of the revolted colo- 
nies, and make an appeal to arms. Grattan, and those 
with whom he acted, labored to convince the Parlia- 
ment of the magnitude of these gi'ievances, the justice 
of the demand for redress, and the danger of denial, or 
even delay. The restrictions imposed on the manu- 
factures and commerce of Ireland, for the supposed 
benefit of England, had reduced the country to the 
verge of bankruptcy. In 1779, when there was some 
reason to dread a French invasion, the government 
could only spare sixty troopers for the protection of the 
important town of Belfast, and the military defence ot 
other parts of the kingdom was equally inefficient. 
Under these circumstances, the citizens of Belfast 
formed armed associations for their own protection. 
Their example was rapidly imitated throughout the 
kingdom. The Voluj^teers formed a national army, 
self-armed and self-officered, while the government, 
though jealous and alarmed, made no attempt to inter- 
fere with their organization. An address for free trade, 
proposed by Mr. Grattan, was carried in the House ot 
Commons, and presented to the lord-lieutenant by 
the entire house. The streets were lined by the 
volunteers, commanded by the Duke of Leinster ; they 
presented arms to the speaker and the members as they 
passed, amid the plaudits of an immense multitude, as- 
sembled to w^itness so novel and interesting a spectacle. 
Encouraged by this success, Mr. Grattan resolved to 
sti-ike at what he considered the greatest gi-ievance of 
his countiy, the claim of the English Parliament to 
legislate for Ireland. After long and earnest consulta- 
tion with his friends, he moved the declaration of right 
on the 19lh of April, 1780, in the memorable words. 



HENRY GRATTAN. 173 

" That the King's Most Excellent Majesty and the 
Lords and Commons of Ireland are the only powers com- 
petent to make laws to bind Ireland." The speech 
which he delivered on this occasion was always re- 
garded by himself as the greatest triumph of his elo- 
quence. Some idea of its fire and spirit maybe formed 
from the concluding paragraph, " I will not be answered 
by a public lie in the shape of an amendment ; neither, 
speaking for the subjects' freedom, am I to hear any- 
thing of faction. I wish for nothing but to breathe in 
this our island, in common with my fellow-subjects, the 
air of liberty. I have no ambition, unless it be the am- 
bition to break your chains and contemplate your glory. 
I never will be satisfied so long as the meanest cottager 
in Ireland has a link of the British chain clanking at his 
rags : he may be naked, he shall not be in iron ; and I 
do see the time is at hand, the spirit is gone forth, the 
declaration is planted ; and though gi'eat men should 
apostatize, yet the cause will five ; and though the 
public speaker should die, yet the immortal fire shall 
outlast the organ which conveyed it, and the breath of 
liberty, like the word of the holy man, will not die with 
the prophet, but survive him." 

After a long debate, the house adjourned without 
coming to any substantive resolution : but this neutral 
result was not unjustly regarded by the popular party 
as a triumph. But the government soon recovered its 
strength in Parliament ; a scale of sugar duties was 
carried, injurious to Irish trade, and a Mutiny Bill 
adopted, scarcely consistent with the principles of the 
constitution. Many of Grattan's associates began to 
despair, but he never faltered ; and the resolutions 
adopted by various bodies of volunteers, showed that the 
spirit of the people was unabated. Early in 1782 it was 
resolved, that delegates from the different volunteer as- 
sociations in Ulster should assemble at Dungannon, to 
deliberate on the state of public affairs. An assembly 
thus summoned without authority, to meet in arms, to 
debate and to resolve, was a perilous experiment, and 
had it not been ably directed might have led to much 
mischief. Through the prudence of the leaders. Lord 
Charlemontj Mr. Grattan, and Mr. Flood, the resolu- 
p2 



174 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

tions were confined to a constitutional statement of 
gi-ievances, and Mr. Grattan further succeeded in ob- 
taining a vote of the delegates in favor of conciliating 
the Catholics. The government and the volunteers 
seemed now about to be brought into direct collision, 
when, fortunately for the countiy, Lord North's admin- 
istration was dissolved, and the new cabinet formed in 
England, under the auspices of the Marquis of Rock- 
ingham, was prepared to tender such measures of con- 
ciliation as seemed best calculated to allay the dissatis- 
faction of the Irish people. On the 16th of April, 1782, 
a conciliatory message was sent to the Irish Parliament, 
and an address moved by Mr. Grattan, asserting the in- 
dependence of the Irish legislature, was unanimously 
adopted. The ministers did not shrink from the good 
work they had begun, and all the demands of the Irish 
patriots were virtually conceded. In the first burst of 
national joy, it was proposed to reward the services of 
Mr. Grattan by a gi'ant of one hundred thousand pounds, 
but at his own earnest wish the sum was reduced one 
half, and he actually received fifty thousand pounds as a 
tribute from his gi-ateful countiy. 

Discord soon appeared to trouble the happiness of 
the country. Mr. Flood insisted that it was not enough 
for England to repeal the laws asserting legislative su- 
premacy over Ireland, but that the principle should be 
expressly renounced ; while Mr. Grattan insisted that, 
under all the circumstances, simple repeal was sufficient. 
The unfortunate disputes to which this difference gave 
rise, have now lost all interest^ and, eloquent as were 
the invectives delivered on both sides, they may well 
be permitted to sink into oblivion. The volunteers, too, 
at this time, began to extend their views to parlia- 
mentary reform, and sent delegates to a Convention in 
Dublin, to prepare a plan for the more equal represen- 
tation of the Irish people. A bill for this purpose was 
oflfered to the House by Mr. Flood, and was supported 
by Mr. Grattan ; but it was rejected, on the plausible 
ground that it had originated in unauthorized dicta- 
tion. 

A crisis of commercial distress, in 1784, directed 
attention to the unsettled state of the trading relations 



HENRY GRATTAN. 175 

between England and Ireland. Early in 1785, Mr. 
Secretary Orde introduced ten resolutions for placing 
them on a satisfactory footing. His propositions were 
adopted ; but when they were transmitted to England, 
they were greatly changed for tha worse, through a 
spirit of commercial jealousy, and, in their altered form, 
they encountered a fierce resistance in the Irish Par- 
liament. Mr. Grattan took the lead in the opposition, 
which proved successful, and the ministerial measure 
was abandoned. But this appearance of a conflict of 
interests between two nations, under the same sove- 
reign, seemed to show that circumstances might arise 
which would necessitate either a more perfect union, 
or a complete separation. 

About this time praedial disturbances became so fre- 
quent in the south of Ireland as to excite much alarm. 
The insurgents were commonly called Whiteboys, from 
their appearing at night with shirts over their clothes ; 
their objects were to raise wages, to prevent the eject- 
ment of tenants, to lower the amount of dues paid to 
the Catholic priests, and to resist the exactions of the 
tithe-proctors who collected tithes for the Protestant 
clergy. The attorney-general (Fitzgibbon) brought in 
a coercive measure to check these tumultuous risings, 
which Mr. Grattan, while acknowledging and lament- 
ing the necessity of coercion, resisted, on account of its 
inordinate severity. " Like the Draconian laws," he 
said, " the bill had blood ! blood ! — felony ! felony ! in 
every period and in every sentence." In consequence 
of this opposition, some of the most obnoxious clauses 
were omitted or modified ; but Mr. Grattan, believing 
that redress should accompany coercion, directed his 
energies to obtain such an amelioration of the law of 
tithes, as would obviate the just complaints of the 
peasantry. On this subject his ^-eatest efifort was 
made on the 14th of April, 1788, when he delivered a 
speech, which for varied power is unrivaled in the 
annals of eloquence. It is not easy to find a passage 
sufiticiently illustrative of the force of this unrivaled 
oration, and, at the same time, free from reference to 
topics which may excite the memory of angry contro- 
versies. But the following passage, in reply to the 



176 MODERN BRITIFH PLUTARCH. 



and the least exceptionable : — 

" Yes ; but will you [innovate ?] Admit this argu- 
ment, and Ave sit here to consecrate abuses. The 
statutes of mortmain were innovations, the suppression 
of monasteries innovations, the Reformation innovation ; 
for, what is the Protestant religion but the interposition 
of Parhament rescuing Christianity from the abuses in- 
ti'oduced by its own priesthood ? 

" Institutions, divine and human, corrupt by their 
nature or by ours ; the best human institution, the 
British constitution, did so coiTupt, that at different 
periods it was anarchy, oligarchy, despotism ; and was 
restored by Parliament. 

" The only divine institution we know of, the Chris- 
tian religion, did so corrupt as to have become an 
abomination, and was rescued by Act of Parliament. 

" Life, like establishments, declines ; disease is the 
lot of nature ; we oppose its progress by sti-ong reme- 
dies ; we drink of a fresh life at some medicinal foun- 
tain, or we find a specific in some salubrious herb ; will 
you call these restoratives innovations on the physical 
economy ? Why, then, in the political economy, those 
statutes which purge the public weal, and, from time to 
time, guard that infirm animal, man, against the evils to 
which civil society is exposed — the encroachments of 
the priest and the politician ? 

" It is founded, then, on a false surmise of our nature, 
this objection ; we live by a succession of amendment ; 
such is the history of man, such, above all, is the histoiy 
of religion, where amendment was ever opposed ; and 
those cant expressions, ' the supporting Church and 
State,' were ever advanced to continue the abuses of 
both. On those occasions, prejudices from the ragged 
battlement of superstition ever screened innovation. 
When om- Elizabeth estabUshed the Protestant religion, 
she was called an innovatress. When Luther began 
the Reformation, he was called an innovator ; nay, when 
Herod and the high-priest Caiaphas (and high-priests of 
all religions are the same), heard that one had gone 
forth into the multitude preaching, gathering the poor 
like the hen under her wing, saying to the rich, Give 



HENRY GRATTAN. 177 

unto the poor and look for ti-easures in heaven, and take 
heed that your hearts be not overcharged with luxury, 
surfeit, and the eases of this life ; — I say, when Herod 
and the high-priest saw the Author of the Christian 
religion thus giving comfort, and countenance, and hope 
to the poor, they were astonished, and felt, in his rebuke 
of their own pomp and pride, and gluttony and beastli- 
ness, great innovation ; they saw in the extent of his 
public care gi'eat innovation ; and, accordingly, they 
conspired against their Savior as an innovator, and, 
under the pretence of supporting what they called the 
Church and State, they stigmatized the redemption of 
man, and they crucified the Son of God !" 

On this subject his efforts were continuous and un- 
successful : the final settlement of the question of Irish 
tithes was reserved for the wisdom of an Imperial 
legislature. The mental malady of George III., in the 
beginning of 1789, produced as violent a political ex- 
citement in Ireland as it did in England. The Irish 
Parliament, under the influence of Mr. Grattan and 
his friends, addressed the Prince of Wales to accept 
the Regency; the English Parliament adopted a very 
different course, proceeding by bill instead of by ad- 
dress, and imposing several restrictions on the authority 
of the regent. Fortunately, the king's recovery pre- 
vented the discussion of the many difficult and, perhaps, 
dangei-ous questions which the inconsistent decisions of 
the two legislatures involved ; but the danger, though 
averted, furnished another proof of the peril arising 
from two independent legislatures in one empire, and 
pointed out the expediency of closer union. It would 
be unnecessary to dwell further on this point, but it is 
clear, that if the countries had difierent regencies they 
would virtually have had different sovereigns. 

The king's recovery placed all parties in Ireland in a 
very difficult position : the English minister, Mr. Pitt, 
deemed it necessary to recover his majority at all haz- 
ards, and, finding that the leaders of the popular party 
would not come into his measures, resolved to win sup- 
porters by a profuse distribution of pensions and places, 
while the popular leaders formed a Whig Club to 
check the progi-ess of corruption. In the midst of the 
13 



178 MODERxN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

struggle both parties became alarmed by the dangerous 
influence which the French Revohition began to exer- 
cise on the mind of Europe. Nowhere was that in- 
fluence more deeply or dangerously felt than in Ireland, 
and Mr. Grattan early endeavored to impress on the 
government the necessity of adopting such measures of 
general reform as would satisfy moderate men, and 
prevent them from being led away by the violent ; and 
he particularly urged the necessity of settling the 
Catholic claims, so as to win the gratitude of the major- 
ity of the population. As he was a supporter of tlie 
war against France, his remonstrances were not with- 
out effect, and in 1795 Earl Fitzwilliam came to Ireland 
as lord-lieutenant, armed, as was believed, with suffi- 
cient authority to carry out a conciliatory course of 
policy. He had scarcely commenced acting on the new 
system when he was suddenly recalled, and he left 
Ireland all but universally lamented. A long and in- 
effectual struggle was made by the popular party to 
have concession substituted for coercion ; they failed, 
and seceded in a body from the House of Commons. 
The Irish rebellion, with its feaiful train of horrors, 
followed ; diseased in health, and broken in spirits, 
Grattan resolved to abstain from politics and spend the 
rest of his life in retuement. We need not dwell on 
the sorroNvful scenes that his country exhibited during 
this calamitous period, and we gladly pass to the time 
when the insurrection Avas suppressed and the Union 
proposed. 

On the 15th of January, 1800, Mr. Grattan was 
elected for the borough of Wicklow, and on that same 
evening came to take his seat in Parliament, just as the 
discussion of the question of union was at its height. 
The writers of the day describe his appearance in the 
house as a scene of great though suppressed excitement ; 
such it must have been, for the author of the constitution 
of 1782 had come to protest against its destruction. His 
speech was one of unrivaled power in argument and in- 
vective, but in this and in his other gi-eat efforts on the 
subject, he seems to have been oppressed with the 
consciousness that his resistance would be vain. Ex- 
perience subsequently reconciled him to the measure : 



HENIIV GRATTAN. 179 

his celebrated reference to the Irish Parliament, when 
he was a member of the Imperial legislature, " I sat by- 
its cradle — I followed its hearse," which Lord Brough- 
ham justly describes as one of the finest passages of 
figurative eloquence, expresses neither a hope nor a 
wish for its revival, but intimates the absence of both. 

During the discussions on the union a violent personal 
altercation between Mr. Grattan and Mr. Corry, the 
Chancellor of the Exchequer, led to a duel between 
these gentlemen, in which the latter was wounded. 
This was only a symptom of the angry passions by 
which parties at the time were animated, and we shall, 
therefore, pass lightly over this period of history, simply 
quoting the conclusion of Grattan's last speech in, and 
in defence of, the Irish Parliament : — 

" Yet I do not give up the country ; I see her in a 
swoon, but she is not dead. Though in her tomb she 
lies helpless and motionless, still there is on her lips a 
sphit of fife, and on her cheek a glow of beauty, — 

' Thou art not conquered ; Beauty's ensign yet 
Is crimson on Ihy lips and on thy cheeks, 
And Death's pale flag is not advanced there.' 

While a plank of the vessel sticks together, I will not 
leave her. Let the courtier present his flimsy sail, and 
carry the light bark of his faith with every breath of 
wind, — I will remain anchored here : with fidelity to 
the fortunes of my country, faithful to her freedom, 
faithful in her fall." 

In 1805 Mr. Grattan entered the Imperial Parlia- 
ment for the borough of Malton, and at once took his 
place in the foremost rank of British orators, by the 
speech which he made on the subject of the Catholic 
claims. To this subject his parliamentaiy exertions 
were chiefly confined, and there is little interest in re- 
tracing the history of the successive failures of a question 
which has long since been settled. It must suffice to 
say, that from 1805 to 1820 he was a zealous supporter 
of the principles of the Whig party, except in 1815, 
when he supported the ministers in renewing the war 
against Napoleon. 

Few statesmen have won more respect from his co- 



180 MODERISr BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

adjutovs and even from those he o})posed. His private 
hie was without a stain, either of temper or principle ; 
and though, after 1805, he was thrown by his parlia- 
mentary duties into the society of comparative strangers, 
he was not less honored and beloved in the political 
circles of London than he had been in Dubhn. There 
were occasions when his popularity in Ireland was 
clouded by the differences of opinion betw^een him and 
the persons whom the Catholics had selected for their 
leaders, but these misapprehensions were of shght du- 
ration, and the confidence which Mr. Grattan so richly 
merited was soon restored. 

In 1813 the bill for conceding Cathohc Emancipation 
was received in the House of Commons, but, after having 
advanced some stages, it was defeated by the influence 
of the Speaker in committee. After this the progress 
of the question was checked, but Mr. Grattan did not 
abandon hope, and continued annually to press it on the 
attention of the legislature. 

In the beginning of June, 1820, he came to London 
to renew his efforts in Parliament, but the exertion 
proved too great for his feeble health : "he died with 
his armor on." A request was made to his family, by 
the leading members of the liberal paity, that his re- 
mains might be buried in Westminster Abbej', instead 
of being removed for interment to Ireland ; his sons as- 
sented to the arrangement, and the obsequies of this 
great patriot were attended by all the more distinguished 
members of both Houses of Parliament. The letter 
containing the request, written by Mr. Samuel Rogers, 
the celebrated poet, has been much and deservedly ad- 
mired ; it may well sei've as an epilogue to this brief 
account of his useful and honorable career : — 

" TO THE SONS OF MR. GRATTAN. 

" Filled with veneration for the character of your 
father, we venture to express a wish, common to us 
with many of those who admired and loved him, that 
what remains of him should be allowed to continue 
among us, 

"It has pleased Divine Providence to deprive the 



HENRY GRATTAN. 181 

empire of his services, wliile he was here in the neigh- 
borhood of that sacred edifice where great men from all 
parts of the British dominions have been for ages inter- 
red. We are desirous of an opportunity of joining in 
the due honor to tried virtue and genius. Mr. Grattan 
belongs to us also, and gi'eat would be our consolation, 
were we permitted to follow him to the grave, and to 
place him where he would not have been unwilling to 
lie_by the side of his illustrious fellow -laborers m the 
cause of freedom." 

Q 



EARL GREY. 



There is no nation in Europe more attached to the 
historical recollections of its ancient nobility than the 
English ; the small number of families which in our day 
represent the pure Norman aristocracy of the age of 
the Plantagenets are regarded with a reverence and 
respect greater than any amount of wealth or extent of 
political influence could command ; a peerage seems 
but the recognition of their innate nobility, and ministe- 
rial power the exercise of their natural functions. Few 
of them, however, have taken a leading part in political 
life since the time of the Revolution, and of those few, 
far the most illustrious was Charles, Earl Grey, who 
has but recently been taken from among us. It is ne- 
cessary to preface his life with some account of hrs 
ancestry, for a high sense of ancestral dignity was witli 
him a principle of action, and was manifest in every 
part of his political career. 

The Grey family is of Norman origin, and one branch 
of it possessed the lordship of Tancarville in Normandy, 
anterior to the conquest ; the title still remains in the 
English peerage, but has passed by marriage into the 
Bennet family. The branch from which the late states- 
man was descended, had taken an active part in the 
civil wars and commotions which intervened between 
the insurrection against Charles I. and the expulsion of 
James II., but after that time, though the family pos- 
sessed great local influence in the county of Northum- 
berland, few of its members acted a conspicuous part in 
public life. The father of the late earl was a younger 



EARL GREY. 183 

son ; he entered the army, and rose to the rank of gen- 
eral ; he inherited the property of his family and the 
manor of Howick on the death of his elder brother, bnt 
was not elevated to the peerage until 1806. 

Charles Grey was born in Northumberland, March 
13th, 1764, and sent at an early age to Eton, where he 
made acquaintance with Whitbread, Ponsonby, and 
Lambton, who were afterwards his political associates 
and his relatives by marriage. Even in his youth he 
was noticed for a chivalrous exaltation of sentiment, a 
high and stately bearing, and an indescribable union of 
personal with moral dignity. An anonymous writer 
states that, either in school or in the university, he re- 
ceived the nickname of Sir Charles Grandison, and 
there were, certainly, sufficient points of resemblance 
betsveen his character and that of Richardson's hero to 
justify the application. 

Having completed his studies at Trinity College, 
Cambridge, he made a tour on the Continent, but, soon 
returning home, he was elected member of Parlia- 
ment in 1785, being only just of age. A singular con- 
juncture of circumstances, which we have elsewhere 
described, had placed a statesman not much older, Mr. 
William Pitt, at the head of the ministry. It is said 
that Mr. Grey was induced to join the Whig opposition 
chiefly through the influence of the beautiful and fasci- 
nating Duchess of Devonshire, whose charms and talents 
were constantly exerted to secure the aid of political 
champions for her party. But the Whigs of that day 
had many attractions for a young man like Mr. Grey, 
more potent than female fascinations; they advocated 
what he probably regarded as the hereditary politics of 
his family; the manly eloquence of Fox was more con- 
genial to enthusiasm, such as Grey possessed, than the 
more stately declamation of Pitt, and the preeminence 
of the opposition in its intellectual strength was just as 
marked as in its political weakness. 

Nearly three years elapsed before Mr. Grey spoke in 
Parliament ; and it is remarkable that his first speech 
was delivered against the most liberal commercial m-eas- 
ure which had been proposed during the last century ; 
it was condemnatory of the commercial treaty with 



184 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

France, the nearest approach that had then been made 
to what are called the principles of "Free Trade." 
However erroneous his views were, the eloquence and 
ability of his speech produced a powerful effect, and he 
was immediately ranked among the first orators of the 
day. He began from that time to take an active part in 
debate, chiefly as an opponent of Mr. Pitt, whom he 
resembled, both in firmness of resolution and obstinacy in 
maintaining an opinion. The collisions between these 
gi'eat men frequently assumed the character of personal 
animosity ; but Pitt was generally tiiumphant in the 
encounter. It was, however, a high proof of the repu- 
tation which Mr. Grey had, that almost immediately 
after his first speech, he was appointed one of the mana- 
gers of the impeachment of Warren Hastings. Although 
at this trial he was associated with the best orators that 
the English Parliament has ever produced. Fox, Burke, 
Sheridan, &c., he maintained his character as a power- 
ful speaker, and suffered but little, even when compared 
with his gi-eat associates. 

In the life of Burke, we have mentioned the great 
schism which the French revolution produced in the 
ranks of the Whig opposition ; Mr. Grey adhered to the 
party of Mr. Fox, and even went bej'ond him in his 
advocacy of popular claims. There was a stern deter- 
mination in his adherence to the principle he had 
adopted, which seemed compounded of the firmness of 
ancient chivalry and the enthusiasm of revolutionary 
politics. In tlie beginning of 1793, when the gi-eater 
part of the noblemen and gentlemen of England put on 
mourning for the unfortunate Louis XYL, Mr. Grey 
continued to wear plain clothes, as if to manifest, even 
in dre^is, his resolute inflexibility. It was in that same 
yeai', on the 6th of May, that he brought forward his 
celebrated motion for a reform in the national repre- 
sentation ; his analysis of the incongruities in the par- 
liamentary system, his exposure of the evils and perils 
of corrupt influence, and his eloquent remonstrance 
against continuance of such a system, made a deep 
impression on the public mind. The motion was, how- 
ever, rejected by an overwhelming majority ; and a 
more detailed plan of reform, presented in 1797 sliared 



EARL GREY. 185 

the same fate. But nothing so strongly shows the 
tenacity of this great man's character, and the fixity of 
his views, than that the Reform Bill, introduced under 
his administration in 1831, after more than thirty years 
of political vicissitudes, was almost identical with that 
which he had proposed when member for Northum- 
berland. 

Though a firm adherent of Mr. Fox, there were many 
circumstances which tended to isolate Mr. Grey from 
the rest of his party. He was not satisfied with his 
leader's frequent fits of indolence and inaction; he could 
not but condemn Fox's exti'avagance, and he lamented 
the pecuniary embarrassments which they occasioned ; 
he thought that the head of a party was degraded by 
becoming dependent on public subscriptions ; but, more 
than all, he condemned the compliances with the 
Prince of Wales, in transactions of very questionable 
propriety. When he entered an public life he found 
the young prince intimately associated with the leaders 
of the opposition, particularly Fox and Sheridan. Their 
talent, their wit, and their fascinating manners, threw a 
delusive glare over their indulgencies, and the youth of 
the prince furnished an excuse for his yielding to those 
fashionable follies, which too rapidly degenerate into 
ignoble vices. The stately coldness and dignified se- 
verity of Grey's manners preserved him from being led 
avs^ay by the temptations of the dangerous circles in 
which he moved : the prince viewed him, however, 
with more respect than affection, and felt that his un- 
swerving steadiness was a tacit reproof to the dissipa- 
tions of his other associates. 

In 1787, when application was made to Parliament 
for a grant to pay the prince's debts, some of the leading 
members of the king's party expressed alarm at a 
report generally circulated and believed, that the prince 
was privately married to Mrs. Fitzherbert, a Catholic 
lady of great accomplishments and respectability. It is 
now generally known that she had been united to the 
prince by a religious ceremony, though the marriage 
covild not be deemed valid, being conti-ary to act of 
Parliament. Still, as the Act of Settlement excluded 
from the inheritance of the throne any prince who had 
q2 



186 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

married a Roman Catholic, and as such a marriage was 
generally regarded by the English people as dangerous 
to public liberty and the national religion, it was heces- 
sary to take some notice of the rumor, and Mr. Fox 
was authorized to denounce it, in the most explicit 
terms, as a calumnious falsehood. When Mrs. Fitz- 
herbert heard what had passed, she was naturally and 
justly indignant ; the prince at once, eager to appease 
her anger, and at the same time to avoid unpleasant 
discussions in Parliament, applied to Grey to make use 
of some new subterfuge in the House of Commons, 
which would weaken the effect of Fox's declaration, 
without giving it a direct contradiction. Grey's indig- 
nant refusal of so degrading a task, was said to have 
been couched in very strong terms ; recourse was then 
had to Sheridan, who was less scrupulous ; but from 
that time a coolness, almost amounting to dislike, grew 
up between the prince and Mr. Grey, and there was 
a great diminution of confidence between Grey and 
Sheridan. 

From the time of the defeat of his measures of reform, 
Mr. Grey acted only a secondary part in the ranks of 
opposition ; his views with regard to the French revo- 
lution were gradually modified, and he became more 
distinguished for moderation than zeal. When Mr. 
Fox came into ofifice, on the death of Pitt in 1806, Mr. 
Grey, whose father was at the same time raised to the 
peerage, took office as First Lord of the Admiralty, 
and became known by the honorary title of Lord 
Howick. He took an active part in the abolition of the 
slave trade, and it was under his immediate auspices 
that this great measure of humanity was finally carried. 
On the death of Mr. Fox, Lord Howick succeeded 
him as Foreign Secretary, and leader of the House of 
Commons. As such, he introduced a bill for removing 
religious tests in the army and navy, which was a 
measure so offensive to the scruples of the king, that 
he dismissed the ministry. Soon afterward Lord How- 
ick, on the death of his father, was called to the upper 
house as Earl Grey, and became there the leader of 
opposition during a long period of exclusion from office. 

The mental indisposition of George HL at the close 



EARL GREY. 187 

of 1809, which was soon found to be incurable, rendered 
it necessary to establish a regency, and the Prince of 
Wales invited Lords Grey and Grenville to advise him 
on the answer he should make to the address voted by 
Parliament. Their counsels were not approved ; a 
reply prepared by Sheridan was preferred to that which 
they recommended, and this not a little contributed to 
increase the separation between the prince and the 
political friends of his youth. They were, indeed, 
formally invited to share office with Mr. Percival, but 
they at once declined joining an administration pledged 
to oppose the Catholic claims. On the assassination of 
Mr. Percival in 1812, these noblemen were again in- 
vited to form an administi-ation ; Earl Grey demanded 
large sacrifices from the regent, a great change both in 
foreign and domestic policy, and the dismissal of the 
officers of the royal household. The regent and his 
friends believed that such demands evinced the spirit of 
a dictator rather than a minister. Sheridan, who 
dreaded the stern inflexibility of Lord Grey, acted a 
double part in the negotiations ; the regent, who was 
never anxious for the success of the arrangements, took 
courage and refused the conditions, but the failure was 
generally attributed to the haughty inflexibility of Earl 
Grey. His defence of himself is a noble specimen of 
his dignified eloquence : — 

" The time will certainly arrive, when all the pro- 
ceedings which have been had upon this subject, will be 
fully explained to Parliament. At present, and merely 
as a key and explanation to them, I beg to state that the 
attempts made to form an administration, as far as we 
were included, were made upon the following terms : 
that we should be morally certain that the principles 
which we have maintained and acted upon through life, 
would be overruled in the cabinet. Was this, — I appeaJ 
to the house, I appeal to the countiy, — a fit, a decent 
proposal for us to accept ? What is there in my con- 
duct, what is there in my life, which should induce even 
a momentary belief, that I would consent to degrade my- 
self into an instrument, a tool to accomplish the designs 
of others ? Was it really believed that I should now 
support measures I have uniformly and strenuously con- 



188 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

demned ? Shall I permit myself to indulge the idea for 
an instant, that any man would dare to hope, that for 
the despicable emoluments of office, I would barter the 
principles that have influenced my life ; or that I would 
now at once abandon those measures which in my opin- 
ion are essential to the salvation of the state ? My lords, 
I wish to make no lofty pretensions to independence 
and disinterestedness ; I ask for nothing but what I have 
a right to claim. My life is before my country, and my 
countrymen shall be my judges. But I am aware that 
I have a duty to perform to my friends, and a duty to 
discharge to ray countiy ; — to those friends, to whose 
steady and honorable attachment I owe so much, and to 
that country whose misfortunes and whose miseries I so 
deeply deplore. There is no man more anxious than 
myself, as far as is consistent with my honor, to out- 
sti-etch a feeble but a ready hand to save the sinking 
nation ; whenever my humble services are called for, 
there is no danger that shall appall me, no difficulty from 
which I will shrink. Give me leave, however, my lords, 
to remark, that I stand in a situation in which I am jus- 
tified in saying, that unless I am called to government 
consistently with the principles I have throughout pro- 
fessed, unless I am allowed to recommend measures in 
the cabinet which I have recommended in the house, 
unless I can continue to act with that honor which it 
has been my pride hitherto to maintain, there is no 
extremity of poverty which I would not rather embrace, 
no accumulation of calamity which 1 would not rather 
endure. With these sentiments, my lords, I have now 
little prospect of being called to the councils of my 
sovereign." 

During the eighteen years that followed, Earl Grey 
continued to be the leader of opposition in the House of 
Lords ; but his opposition was never factious, he did not 
seek to throw out the ministers with the hope of being 
himself called to the head of affairs. His resistance to 
measures which he disapproved was evinced by dignified 
speeches, by powerful protests, or by sarcastic criticism, 
but never by appeals to popular feeling. His effiarts 
were rare, but when he spoke, unexampled deference 
was shown for his opinions, both within and without the 



EARL GREY. 189 

walls of Parliament. Much of this was due to his dig- 
nity in private life, his chivalrous honor and unimpeach- 
able integi-ity. In the midst of the dissipation and 
excesses which distinguished fashionable life under the 
regency, Lord Grey's household exhibited a purity of 
morals and strictness of domestic virtue that might almost 
be called Spartan. Lord Byron has recorded the im- 
pression produced on him by the aspect of the numerous 
family which surrounded this noble model of an English 
patrician. Though in public life he displayed much of 
the stern severity of Cato, in the domestic circle his ami- 
able manners placed every one at ease, while his equa- 
nimity attracted confidence. 

The greatest fault of Earl Grey's character was the 
strength of his personal resentments ; he had little sus- 
ceptilDility, but he never pardoned. This quality of 
mind was evinced in his earlier conflicts with Mr. Pitt, 
but it was most manifest in his conduct to George IV., 
Mr. Canning, and Mr. O'Connell. During the queen's 
trial, Earl Grey bore himself rather as the antagonist of 
George IV. than the advocate of Queen Caroline. Du- 
ring the whole of the year 1820, he shielded one whom 
he had, when minister, most severely censured, and yet 
so dignified was his position and so noble his bearing, 
that no one ventured to charge him with inconsistency. 
To him, more than to.any one else, must the failure of 
the bill of Pains and Penalties be ascribed. 

In 1827, the ministry to which Earl Grey had been 
so long opposed, was broken up, and the reins of power 
transferred to Mr. Canning. But between the new pre- 
mier and Earl Grey there had been a feud of twenty 
years' standing, envenomed on the one hand by sallies 
of wit, epigram, lampoon, and on the other by reprisals 
of scorn, defiance, and disdain ; many of the Whig oppo- 
sition, particularly the younger men, attracted by Can- 
ning's fascinating qualities, joined his ranks, and Earl 
Grey was all but left alone. Cato deserted in Utica was 
not more firm and determined ; he rose from the oppo- 
sition benches, where he sat surrounded by his old ad- 
versaries, with whom he could have no sj^mpathy, and 
confronting the benches on wliich sat the friends with 
whom he had invariably acted, but from whom he now 



190 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

felt himself severed, and delivered one of the most tell- 
ing invectives uttered against a public man since the 
days of Cicero and Antony. The effect of this attack 
on Canning was greatly increased by the dignified mel- 
ancholy with which Lord Grey declared, that he had, 
for himself, abandoned all hopes of power. 

" Those who have done me the honor to attach any 
importance to my opinions, are awai-e that I have, for 
some years, been withdrawing myself more and more 
from a direct interference in the politics of the country. 
As long, however, as I do remain, I am anxious to keep 
in that situation in which I can do what I consider the 
most good. To take a more active part in public busi- 
ness, is quite out of my intention. 'Non eadem est 
aetas, non mens.' With the noble marquis (Lansdowne) 
I concur in most questions ; and to him I will, on every 
occasion, give my support, where I conscientiously can ; 
but at the same time I must declare, that I will never 
shrink from opposing any and every measure which I 
cannot conscientiously approve. I shall not, however, 
again embark upon the troubled sea of politics, upon 
which all my life, until now, I have navigated, God 
knows with how little success, but at the same time 
with the consolation of knowing that I have done so 
with an honest and approving conscience." 

The death of Mr. Canning, folloiived soon after by the 
accession of the Wellington administration, brought par- 
ties back to their former places. Earl Grey for some 
time took no active part in public life, but he zealously 
supported the ministerial measure of Catholic Emanci- 
pation. It was with something like astonishment that 
the world saw him, after the death of George IV., when 
the revolutions of France and Belgium had spread a fe- 
verish excitement throughout Europe, suddenly appear 
as the leader of those who demanded parliamentary re- 
form. Even now, we cannot quite divest ourselves of 
the feeling of wonder at the unanimity with which all 
classes of reformers accepted him as their head, and 
submitted to the guidance of the veteran statesman. On 
the resignation of the Wellington ministiy, he was ap- 
pointed Premier, and the Reform Bill, introduced under 
his auspices in 1831. was, as we have said, in all its es- 



EARL GREY. 191 

sential features, identical with that which he had vainly- 
proposed in 1797. 

The struggle by which the Reform Bill was finally 
carried, is too near our own time to be criticised or even 
recorded. Earl Grey's popularity with nearly all classes 
was unbounded ; even his opponents were affected by 
the courage and consistency which he displayed in every 
trial. But it was when the victory was won that his 
real difficulties commenced. For obvious reasons we 
shall not discuss questions which raised passions that 
have not yet subsided. The ministers differed on the 
course of policy that ought to be pursued toward Ire- 
land. Lord Grey was averse to the concessions that 
some of his colleagues wished to make to O'Connell, 
whom he personally and politically disliked ; Sir James 
Graham and Lord Stanley, who shared his antipathy to 
the Irish agitator, had already abandoned office ; and at 
length, on the 9th of July, 1834, Earl Grey announced 
to the peers that he had ceased to be minister. The 
dignified simplicity of this speech, which may be re- 
garded as the great man's farewell address to his coun- 
trymen, is a rare specimen of noble candor. 

" In March last I completed my seventieth year, and 
at that period of life, a man, although he might be able 
to discharge the duties of that office which I hold, under 
ordinaiy and easy circumstances, yet, considering the 
present condition of affairs, I felt that the duties imposed 
on me were too much for my strength, and that I should 
therefore be justified in retiring. On receiving my no- 
ble friend's (Althorp's) resignation, therefore, I saw no 
alternative, but felt impelled by irresistible necessity to 
tender my own to his majesty at the same time. Those 
resignations have been accepted by his majesty, and 1 
now stand here discharging the duties of office only till 
such time as his majesty shall be enabled to supply my 
place. I trust that in this painful statement — in this 
last scene of my political life — I may experience your 
lordships' indulgence. I have stated the circumstances 
candidly to your lordships — I wish to disguise nothing; 
and I shall bo ready to submit to your lordships' cen- 
sure, if you think me in fault : but I claim your lord- 
ships' indulgence, if my errors admit of excuse. I call 



192 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

on your lordships and the public for a just, and even 
kind consideration of the difficult circumstances in which 
I have been placed. I came into the government at a 
season of great difficulty, and I never should have occu- 
pied my present situation if I could have persuaded the 
noble marquis near me (Lord Lansdowne) to accept it. 
I may have much to account for to your lordships, and 
to the country, with respect to the ability with which I 
have discharged my duty ; but I trust that I shall stand 
excused in your lordships' and in my country's opinion 
for any departure from the principles which I have pro- 
fessed, or for any deviation from that conduct which 
became a man of honor." 

During the remaining years of his life Earl Grey with- 
drew altogether from public affairs, save that on two or 
three occasions he came fonvard to support his friend 
and successor in office, Lord Melbourne. His retire- 
ment was cheered by the consciousness that he held 
the highest place in the estimation of his countrymen ; 
for all the complaints that had been made against his 
administration were withdrawn so soon as he quitted 
office ; and it seemed as if, during his life, he had taken 
his place in history. His death, in the summer of 1845, 
excited little notice, because it was an event w^iich had 
long been expected ; but it called forth fi-om men of all 
parties just eulogiums on the last of a class of statesmen 
peculiar to England, but which England is not likely to 
see again. In all the relations of public life he preserved 
an admirable consistency : his eloquence was the just 
reflection of his natural character. He had the advan- 
tage of a noble person, a commanding aspect, and a most 
musical voice ; his delivery was graceful and imposing, 
and he exhibited a kind of gi-ave dignity in his enuncia- 
tion which made every word fall on the ear with the 
weight of authority. To use the words of one who was 
worthy to write his epitaph, " He was a great man, who 
has left a great example." 



WARREN HASTINGS. 



Warren Hastings was born on the 6th of Decem- 
ber, 1732. The death of his parents while he was an 
infant left him dependent upon his grandfather, an aged 
clergyman, with a very limited income, and whose sense 
of poverty was rendered veiy keen by his residing in 
the midst of the broad lands which had passed from his 
family into the hands of strangers. These feelings im- 
bued the mind of little Warren with wild fancies and 
projects ; he loved in his old age to relate how, when 
scarcely seven years old, he had formed the resolution 
to recover his hereditaiy manor of Daylesford, and this 
purpose, formed in infancy and poverty, gi-ew stronger 
as his intellect expanded and his fortune rose. When 
he reached his eighth year, he was taken under the 
protection of his uncle Howard, who determined to give 
him a liberal education. The boy went up to London, 
and after spending two years in a preparatory establish- 
ment at Newington, was sent to Westminster School, 
where several who afterwards attained gi-eat eminence 
were at that time students. Among his intimates were 
the poet Cowper, and Impey, with whom he subse- 
quently became associated on a very different stage. 
But Hastings was popular with all his companions, being 
an excellent swimmer, boatman, and scholar. Having 
passed through the usual course of studies, he was pre- 
paring to remove to Oxford, when his uncle died, be- 
queathing him to the care of a distant relative named 
Chiswick. This gentleman obtained for his charge a 
writership in the service of the East India Company ; 
13 R 



194 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

and though Dr. Nicholls, the master of Westminster 
School, offered to defray the expenses of his favorite 
pupil at the University, Chiswick would not change his 
destination, but sent him to Bengal, where he arrived 
in October, 1750. 

Calcutta was at this time a purely commercial estab- 
lishment ; the Company possessed no authority beyond 
Fort William ; the province of Bengal was ruled by 
Surajah Dowlah, who was nominally dependent on 
the Emperor of Delhi. After a short residence at Cal- 
cutta, Hastings was sent to superintend the factory of 
Cossumbazar, where the Company had an extensive 
trade in silk goods. Hastings spent some years in this 
mercantile situation ; he was suddenly seized by Sura- 
jah Dowlah, and thrown into prison. Having pillaged 
the factory at Cossumbazar, the nabob marched on Cal- 
cutta, which was abandoned by the governor and com- 
mandant ; the English who remained became prisoners, 
and most of them perished in the Black Hole. 

The treatment of Hastings was mild and indulgent ; 
he was allowed a gi'eat share of liberty, and he became 
the agent of communication between the nabob and the 
fugitive governor. Intrigues were formed for removing 
Surajah Dowlah, but the time was not yet ripe for their 
execution ; suspicion was excited, and Hastings with dif- 
ficulty escaped to Fulda, where the English had sought 
refuge. Soon after the expedition from Madras, under 
the command of Clive, arrived in the Hoogly, Warren 
joined it as a volunteer ; but his talents soon attracted 
the notice of the general, who resolved to employ him 
in a diplomatic capacity. When Meer Jaffier was cre- 
ated nabob, after the battle of Plassy, Hastings was 
appointed to reside at his court as agent for the Com- 
pany. There he remained until 1761, when, having 
been appointed a member of council, he was compelled 
to reside at Calcutta. In the life of Clive we have given 
an account of the gi'oss coiTuption by which the govern- 
ment of British India was at this time disgraced. Hast- 
ings does not appear to have exhibited the same rapacity 
as many of his companions ; for, when he returned to 
England in 1764, his fortune was veiy moderate, and it 
was soon reduced to nothing, partly by his liberality, and 



WARREN HASTINGS. 195 

partly by imprudence. He gave more than he could 
well afford to his poor relations, and the greater part of 
his savings, which had been lent out on high interest in 
India, was lost by the bankruptcy of the persons to whom 
it had been entrusted. Before this was known, he had 
formed a project to introduce the study of Persian liter- 
ature into the English Universities, and, while endeavor- 
ing to carry it into effect, made the acquaintance of Doc- 
tor Johnson, on whom his talents and attainments made 
a most favorable impression. The loss of his fortune 
compelled him to apply again for employment to the 
Court of Directors, and in 1769 he sailed from Eng- 
land, having been appointed member of council at Ma- 
dras. 

On the voyage, he fell in love with the wife of his 
fellow-passenger. Baron Imhoff, a despicable adventurer, 
who hoped to support himself in India by painting por- 
ti'aits. It was soon arranged that the baroness should 
institute a suit for divorce in a German court ; that her 
husband, in consideration of a large bribe, should give 
every facility to the suit, and that, when the legal for- 
malities were completed, the lady should become the 
wife of Hastings. This strange bargain was carried into 
effect ; and the parties were happier than such immo- 
rality deserved. 

The improvements which Hastings made at Madras 
were so great, that the directors resolved to place him 
at the head of the government of Bengal. He arrived 
at Calcutta early in 1772, and took his place at the head 
of the council ; for, at this period, the governor had only 
one vote in the council, and, in case of division, a cast- 
ing vote. Though the English possessed all the real 
power, the government of Bengal was administered in 
the name of the nabob, who resided at Moorshedabad ; 
and the internal affairs were entrusted to a native min- 
ister, who had charge of the entire administration, and 
was responsible only to the British rulers of the country. 
There were two candidates for this high office, Mo- 
hammed Reza Khan, a Mussulman of fair character, 
and Nuncomar, a Brahmin of great talent, but very in- 
different reputation. Clive had appointed Mohammed 
Reza Khan to the administration ; but Nuncomar con- 



196 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

ti'ived, througli his agents, to persuade the court of di- 
rectors that the minister did not collect as large a revenue 
as might easily be obtained ; and this calumny was very 
readily credited, as the most extravagant notions of the 
wealth of India were entertained in England. Orders 
were sent out to Hastings that Mohammed Reza Khan 
should be airested, and his accounts closely investigated. 
Hastings promptly obeyed, but at the same time he baf- 
fled the crafty ambition of Nuncomar, by abolishing the 
office of native minister altogether. After a long ti'ial, 
Mohammed Reza Khan was acquitted ; and Nuncomar 
found that his intrigues had ended in transfen-ing the 
government from native to European hands, and that 
his own hopes were forever frustrated. 

The East India proprietors in England, believing the 
resources of India inexhaustible, were constantly de- 
manding large remittances from their servants without 
being aware that such sums could not be obtained with- 
out violating the principles of rectitude. They recom- 
mended justice and humanity ; but they concluded every 
moral lesson with a demand for more money, without 
seeming to be aware of the inconsistency. Hastings 
saw that he must disobey one or other of the injunc- 
tions, and he correctly judged that he would best please 
his mastors by neglecting the morality and attending to 
the money. 

He began by reducing the annual allowance of the 
Nabob of Bengal from three hundred and twenty thou- 
sand pounds a-year to half that sum. It had been agi*eed 
that a ti'ibute of the same amount should be paid to the 
Emperor of Delhi; but this was now withheld, on the 
ground that the emperor was no longer an independent 
sovereign. The provinces of Allahabad and Corah were 
wrested from the same monarch on the same pretence, 
and were then sold to the Nabob of Oude for half a mil- 
lion sterling. A more still unjustifiable transaction fol- 
lowed ; the Nabob of Oude coveted the teiritory of the 
Rohillas, a gallant race, descended from the Afghans, 
who had been rewarded for their military sei-vices to 
the emperors of Delhi, by gi-ants of the fertile lands 
watered by the Ramagunga, a tributary of the Ganges. 
The nabob shrank from a conflict with this gallant race ; 



WAREEN HASTINGS. 197 

but lie ofifered four hundred thousand pounds to the 
governor-general for the aid of an English army. The 
bargain was soon struck, and three brigades were sent 
to aid in subjugating a brave population who had never 
done us any harm, and placing them under the worst 
government to be found even in India. No stipula- 
tion was made for observing the ordinary humanities 
of civilized warfare, though Sujah Dowlah, the Nabob 
of Oude, was as notorious for his cruelty as for his 
cowardice. 

The result is soon told ; the Rohillas, after a brave 
resistance, were broken by the superior discipline of the 
English soldiers: the native troops of Oude, who had 
fled from fight, returned to plunder, and no mercy was 
shown to the vanquished. Rohillund was laid waste 
with fire and sword ; villages were burned, men driven 
to perish by hunger in the jungles, children butchered, 
and women dishonored. Colonel Champion, the Eng- 
lish commander, remonstrated with the nabob, and sent 
strong representations to the governor; but the nabob 
disregarded every appeal, and Hastings refused to in- 
terfere. In a few months the rich province which had 
tempted the cupidity of Sujah Dowlah, became the 
most miserable part even of his miserable dominions; 
but Warren Hastings had obtained for the treasury a 
million in ready money, had added about half that sum 
to the permanent income of the Company, and had re- 
lieved the finances of Bengal from the expense of sup- 
porting the army to an amount of more than two hun- 
dred thousand pounds, and had thrown that charge on 
the Nabob of Oude. 

In 1773, a change was made in the administration of 
India by act of Parliament. It was arranged that the 
presidency of Bengal should exercise a contt-oUing power 
over the other possessions of the Company; that its chief 
should be styled governor-general ; that he should be 
assisted by four counselors named in the act ; and that 
a supreme court of judicature, consisting of a chief jus- 
tice and three inferior judges, should be established at 
Calcutta. Warren Hastings was appointed the first 
governor-general; the four counselors were General 
Clavering, Mr. Barwell, Mr. Monson, and Mr. Francis. 
r2 



198 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

The tenure of their office was five years. The new 
chief justice was Sir Elijah Impey, who had been the 
school-fellow of Hastings, and who now showed himself 
his unscrupulous partisan. 

Clavering, Monson, and Francis united against Hast- 
ings from the very first, and having a majority in the 
council took the whole administration into their own 
hands. Their ignorance of Indian affairs soon threw 
the public policy, at home and abroad, into a state of sad 
confusion, while they seemed to be actuated but by one 
motive, a des'u*e to mortify the governor-general, and to 
show that power had passed from his hands. Nunco- 
mar believed that the time was come for revenging his 
old disappointment ; he paid the most obsequious atten- 
tion to the new counselors, and placed in their hands a 
paper, accusing Hastings of putting offices up to sale, and 
of receiving bribes for suffering offenders to escape. 
Francis read the paper in council; in spite of the pro- 
test of Hastings, the majority resolved that the charge 
should be investigated ; Nuncomar produced his evi- 
dence, and it was voted that Hastings had unfairly re- 
ceived thirty thousand pounds which ought to be re- 
funded. 

Hastings secretly sent his resignation to Colonel Mac- 
leane, his agent in England, to be placed in the hands of 
the directors, if they should appear to favor his enemies; 
but at the same time, he aimed a stroke at then* chief 
agent, which was wholly unexpected. Nuncomar was 
arrested on a charge of forgery, and cast into prison ; 
bail was refused, and the interference of the council 
was peremptorily resisted by the court. The day of 
trial came ; a jury, composed of Englishmen, found 
Nuncomar guilty, and Sir Elijah Irapey pronounced 
sentence of death. No respite or delay would be grant- 
ed, and the unfortunate Brahmin was publicly hanged 
in Calcutta. Such a punishment for such a crime had 
not before been known in India, and the hoiTor which 
it is inspired is not yet forgotten. That Impey acted at 
the direct instigation of Hastings cannot be proved, but 
there is no doubt that he took advantage of this ques- 
tionable power of the law to aid and gratify the governor- 
^eneral. The aid was most effectual: all the native 



WARREN HASTINGS. 199 

accusers of Hastings, warned by the fate of Nuncomar, 
withdrew their charges, and the council found that the 
governor in a minority was still formidable. 

But in the mean time, intelligence of the disputes 
between Hastings and the council had reached England. 
Lord North, who was then premier, declared in favor of 
the council, and the Court of Directors took the same 
course ; but the Court of Proprietors came to a different 
decision, and established the authority of Hastings. 
Lord North threatened parliamentary interference, 
upon which Colonel Macleane produced the resignation 
with which he was entrusted. It was accepted, Mr. 
Wheler was appointed to succeed Hastings, and Claver- 
ing was appointed to act as governor-general until 
Wheler should arrive. 

But in the mean time, the death of Monsou had re- 
duced the opponents of Hastings in the council to two, 
and as he was supported by Barwell, his casting vote 
gave him in effect a majority. W^ien the appointment 
of Clavering arrived, Hastings disavowed his resignation, 
and after a sharp struggle he got his opponents to refer 
the question to the Supreme Court. The judges de- 
cided that the resignation was invalid, and that Hastings 
was consequently still the governor-general. Clavering 
died shortly after; Wheler, when he came out, was 
forced to content himself with a seat at the council 
board ; and the course pursued by Hastings when re- 
stored to power was so wise and prudent, that he soon 
regained the favor of the Court of Directors. When 
his five years of office had expired, he was quietly re- 
appointed. 

His second administi'ation commenced in a season of 
peril and difficulty. The Mahratta powers menaced 
hostilities; France, having declared war against Eng- 
land, was likely to renew her attempts on India, and 
many of the native powers began to show signs of dis- 
content. Sir Eyre Coote was sent out as commander- 
in-chief; but Hastings found it no easy task to gratify 
the caprices of the old general. Evils of a different 
nature arose from the claims of the Supreme Court of 
Justice to independent power, and it was only by giving 
a large bribe to Impey that harmony could be restored. 



200 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

In the council disputes went to such a height, that 
Francis challenged the governor-general; they met, 
and Francis was severely Avounded. A still more dan- 
gerous crisis arrived, which, but for the gi'eat abilities 
displayed by Hastings, might probably have rendered 
the years 1780 and 1781 as fatal to our power in Asia 
as they were to our power in America. Hyder Ali, 
who had risen from the lowest ranks to be King of My- 
sore, invaded the Carnatic at the head of an army of 
ninety thousand men, well provided with artillery, and 
guided in its movements by able French officers. Two 
English armies advanced against Hyder, but defeii'ing 
their junction they exposed themselves to be separately 
attacked. Baillie's forces were surrounded and cut to 
pieces ; Sir Hector Munro could only save his men by 
a hasty retreat, in which he abandoned his baggage and 
destroyed his guns. Intelligence of the danger of South- 
ern India was brought to Hastings by a fast-sailing ves- 
sel : his resolution was at once formed ; Sir Eyre Coote, 
with a military force, and a large supply of money, was 
sent to Madras ; the progi'ess of Hyder was arrested, 
and the great victory of Porto Novo reti'ieved the mili- 
taiy fame of England. 

But this biilliant policy was very costly, and the gov- 
ernment of Bengal began to feel the pressure of financial 
embaiTassments. Hastings was resolved that money 
should be obtained at all hazards, and the first victim 
marked out for extortion was Cheyte Sing, Rajah of 
Benares. So early as 1778 Cheyte Sing had been com- 
pelled, in addition to his fixed ti'ibute, to pay an extra- 
ordinaiy contribution of fifty thousand pounds toward 
the expenses of the war with France ; an equal sum was 
exacted in the following year. When the demand was 
renewed in 1780, Cheyte Sing offered the governor- 
general a bribe of twenty thousand pounds, which Hast- 
ings accepted, but after some delay paid over to the 
treasury. He then insisted that the rajah should com- 
ply with the demands of the government, and added a 
fine of ten thousand pounds for delay. The money was 
paid, but the governor-general was not satisfied ; he re- 
quired the rajah to maintain a body of cavahy for the 
service of the Company, and, on his refusal, resolved to 



WARREN HASTINGS. 201 

treat him as a criminal. Cheyte Sing was in the utmost 
dismay ; he offered two hundi-ed thousand pounds to 
propitiate the British government, but was informed 
that nothing less than half-a-million would be accepted. 
Hastings even began to think of selling Benares to Oude, 
as he had formerly sold Allahabad and Rohillund, and 
he went to Benares with a very limited suite to super- 
intend the conduct of affairs. Cheyte Sing gave ex- 
'cuses in abundance, but, as he did not supply the money 
demanded, he was arrested in his own capital. 

Benares, the great meti'opolis of the Brahminical re- 
ligion, was deeply stirred by this outrage ; its inhabitants 
rushed to arms ; the gates of the palace where Cheyte 
Sing was confined were forced, the officers and soldiers 
were cut to pieces, and the captive prince escaped across 
the river during the confusion. Hastings was in great 
danger : he had only fifty men with him, and the build- 
ing in which he had taken up his residence was block- 
aded by the populace. His fortitude was not shaken ; 
he contrived to communicate his situation to the com- 
manders of the English troops ; officers and men has- 
tened to his relief with an alacrity which never was 
surpassed. Major Popham led the forces thus hastily 
assembled against the tumultuary troops of the rajah ; 
the contest was easily decided, the insurgents scarce 
made a show of resistance ; Cheyte Sing fled from his 
country for ever, and his territoiy was added to the Bri- 
tish dominions. It had been beUeved that his ti-easury 
contained more than a million of money ; only about a 
quarter of that sum was found, and even this was seized 
as prize money by the army. 

Disappointed in his expectations fi-om Benares, Hast- 
ings turned his attention to Oude, where his prospects 
of success were not very flattering, as Asaph al Dow- 
lah, the son and successor of Sujah Dowlah, so far from 
being able to gi'ant an extraordinary supply of money, 
was petitioning for a remission of the sums he already 
owed. Under these circumstances the governor-general 
and the nabob met ; they were not long in coming to an 
agreement ; they resolved that money should be extort- 
ed from the mother and wife of the late nabob, who 
were usually called the begums or princesses of Oude. 



202 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

It was agreed that these noble ladies, under pretence of 
having fomented the disturbances at Benares, should 
be deprived of the lands and treasures bequeathed to 
them by the late Sujah Dowlah. The most iniquitous 
means were used to enforce this iniquitous measure ; 
the palace of the princesses was stormed, and they were 
confined to their apartments ; and when this failed, their 
favorite servants were imprisoned, ironed, and almost 
starved to death. Worse even than this, they were sent 
to Lucknow and delivered up to torture. This cruelty 
continued until twelve hundred thousand pounds had 
been extorted from the princesses, and the captives were 
liberated. 

But the state of India now began to excite the atten- 
tion of the British Parliament. Toward the close of 
the American war two committees of the Commons sat 
on Indian affairs ; Edmund Burke presided over one, 
and Mr. Henry Dundas over the other. The reports 
of both harshly censured the conduct of Hastings ; and 
the House of Commons voted that he ought to be re- 
called. The East India proprietors, however, remained 
firm in his cause, and he continued to hold oflfice until 
1785, when he left India, which his administration had 
brought to a state of unexampled ti-anquillity. 

Hastings landed at Plymouth in June, 1785 ; on his 
arrival in London he was graciously received at court, 
cordially greeted by the directors, and assured of the 
friendship of some of the most eminent public men. 
But he soon found that a storm was coming. Burke 
gave notice of a motion seriously affecting him, which 
could not, however, be discussed at so late a period of 
the session ; and Major Scott, to whom Hastings had 
entrusted his defence, was about the most incompetent 
advocate he could have selected. On the first day of 
the session Scott tauntingly reminded Burke of his 
charges, and thus compelled him and his associates to 
persevere as accusers, or to acknowledge themselves 
calumniators. 

Burke laid his charges on the table early in April, 
and Hastings was invited to answer them at the bar. 
He did so by reading a paper of immense length, which 
soon dispersed the members, and thus the vindication 



WARREN HASTINGS. 203 

was addressed to empty benches. In the beginning of 
June, Burl;e brought forward his first charge, relating to 
the Rohilla war, but it was rejected by a large majority. 
Hastings seemed now assured of victory ; his friends 
demanded that he should be raised to the peerage ; the 
very title, that of Lord Daylesford, was chosen ; but 
this joy was premature, Hastings had still to pass 
through a long and perilous ordeal. On the thirteenth 
of June Mr. Fox brought forward the charge respecting 
the treatment of Cheyte Sing. The premier, Mr. 
Pitt, who had hitherto supported Hastings, voted for 
the charge, which was immediately sanctioned by a 
large majority. In the following session Sheridan 
brought forward the charge relating to the Begums of 
Oude, in the most wonderful speech ever delivered in 
the House of Commons. Pitt declared himself for the 
motion, which was carried. The friends of Hastings 
were discouraged, twenty articles of impeachment were 
sanctioned by the House of Commons, and carried by 
Burke to the House of Lords. As the session was 
near its close, Hastings, having been aiTested as a mat- 
ter of form, was admitted to bail, and preparations were 
made for the most extraordinary trial the world had 
ever witnessed. 

In the lives of Burke, Fox, and Sheridan, will be 
found some account of the zeal and ability with which 
the impeachment was supported ; Hastings met the 
storm with remarkable firmness, and during the eight 
years that the trial continued never showed the slightest 
want of courage or confidence. Public opinion, which 
had at first been on the side of his accusers, turned 
decidedly in his favor, and when his acquittal was 
finally pronounced, the voice of the nation sanctioned 
the verdict. But the enormous expenses of this pro- 
tracted trial, and, still more, the sums spent in bribing 
newspapers, and hiring writers of pamphlets, had ruined 
the fortunes of Hastings. He had indeed purchased 
the manor of Daylesford, and expended large sums on 
its improvement, but his distress became so great that 
he could not discharge his weekly bills. The Company 
was not unwilling to assist him, but the Board of Con- 
trol refused assent. 



204 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

A long controversy followed, and at length he obtained 
an annuity of four thousand and a loan of fifty thousand 
pounds without interest. He retired to Daylesford, 
where he amused himself by tiying to rear Indian ani- 
mals and vegetables in England, varying this employ- 
ment with literary pursuits. His very existence was 
forgotten, until in 1813 he was called to give evidence at 
the bar of the House of Commons, on the occasion of 
the renewal of the Company's charter. Twenty-seven 
years had elapsed since he had appeared in the same 
place to answer the charges which Burke had laid on 
the table. The nation had now forgotten his faults, and 
remembered only his services. He was received with 
acclamations ; a chair was ordered to be set for him, and 
when he retired the members rose and uncovered. 
Similar honors were paid him by the House of Lords, 
and the University of Oxford conferred upon him the 
degree of Doctor of Laws. He was made a member of 
the Privy Council ; the Prince Regent ti-eated him with 
marked favor, and introduced him to the Emperor 
Alexander and the King of Prussia as the savior of 
India. He confidently expected a peerage, but was dis- 
appointed. He survived four years, enjoying a health 
of body and mind rare in extreme old age. He died on 
the 22nd day of August, in the 86th year of his age, and 
was buried in the parish church of his beloved Dayles- 
ford. 

Warren Hastings had gi-eat qualities, and rendered 
gi-eat services to the state, but there were dark spots on 
his fame, which all the brilliancy of his successful ad- 
ministration could not efface. We may acquit him of 
any share in the legal murder of Nuncomar, but his 
conduct to the Rohillas, the Rajah of Benares, and the 
Begums of Oude admits of no defence, scarce even of 
palliation. He went down to his grave in the fulness of 
age — in peace after so many troubles — in honor after so 
much obloquy. 



BISHOP HEBER. 



^HE amiable character of Bishop Heber, conspicuous 
in every action of his life, renders his memoirs as in- 
teresting and more instructive than those of warriors 
and of statesmen. His premature death in a distant 
land prevented his attaining that eminence in the Church 
and that estimation from his countiymen, to vi^hich he 
was fairly entitled by his virtues and his talents ; but he 
left behind him a bright example, which we trust re- 
quires only to be known in order to be imitated. Regi- 
nald Heber was born April 21st, 1783, at Malpas in the 
county of Chester ; his father was rector of the parish, 
and also proprietor of a considerable estate. Reginald's 
early childhood was distinguished by mildness of dispo- 
sition, obedience to his parents, consideration for the 
feelings of those around him, and a firm reliance on 
God's providence. His early progress was so rapid that 
he could read the Bible with fluency at five years of 
age, and was even then remarkable for the avidity with 
which he studied it, and his accurate knowledge of its 
contents. When he was about seven years old, a party 
of his young companions were amusing themselves with 
riddles and cross questions in the room where he was 
reading. His attention was attracted by the question, 
" Where was Moses when his candle went out ?" He 
instantly replied, " On Mount Nebo ; for there he died, 
and there his lamp of life may well be said to have gone 
out." 

His ardent passion for knowledge was guided by his 
father to be useful, so that when he was sent to school 
S 



306 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

at thirteen years of age, he possessed more information 
than many who are reputed to have completed their 
education. He entered All Souls' College, Oxford, in 
November, 1800, and soon acquired a high reputation 
for his classical acquirements, to which he soon added 
the celebrity of poetic powers of the highest order. It 
was in the spring of 1803 that he wrote his " Palestine," 
the best prize poem ever produced at a university. 
When it was nearly completed he read it to Sir Walter 
Scott, who happened to breakfast with him ; Sh' Walter 
remarked, " You have omitted one striking circumstance 
in your account of the building of the temple, that no 
tools were used in its erection." Mr. Heber immedi- 
ately produced the following beautiful couplet : — 

" No hammer fell, no ponderous axes rung, 
Like some tali palm the mystic fabric sprung." 

His recital of this beautiful poem in the magnificent 
theatre of the Oxford University w^as witnessed by his 
father, and the applause which it received was said to 
have produced such an effect on his health, that parental 
joy contributed to hasten his death. This was not his 
only ti-iumph ; the year after He had fakeh his degree, 
he obtained the Bachelor's prize for an English prose 
essay : the subject was the " Sense of Honor," and was 
admirably suited to his peculiar powers and feelings. 

In the middle of the year 1805, accompanied by his 
friend Mr. John Thornton, he made a tour to the north 
of Europe, which was extended through Russia, Hun- 
gary, and Germany. He returned in 1807, and having 
taken orders was instituted by his brother to the family 
living of Hodnet, in Shropshire, a place for which he felt 
through life a most warm attachment. 

In 1809 he married the youngest daughter of the Dean 
of St. Asaph, and, as a proof of his value of the Holy 
Scriptures, the lady has recorded that the first present 
she ever received from him was a Bible. As a parish 
priest he was one of the most estimable of his day ; his 
liberal charities alleviated the sufferings of the poor ; his 
gentle rebukes checked the pursuits of the vicious ; — 
dissent was almost unknown in his neighborhood, 
tliough he never allowed religious differences to inter- 



BISHOP HEBER. 207 

fere with the course of his philanthropy. His life was 
thus useful and tranquil ; he avoided publicity, and his 
name was little known beyond the circle of his imme- 
diate friends, when he was chosen to preach the Bamp- 
ton Lectures in 1815. The subject he selected was, 
" The Personality and Office of the Christian Com- 
forter." The publication of these lectures involved him 
in a painful controversy with one of his critics, but it was 
the general belief that Heber had the best of the argu- 
ment. He was a frequent contributor to the " Quarterly 
Review," and other periodicals ; literature was his chief 
relaxation, and his power of extracting poetry from the 
most simple facts, rendered his articles as delightful as 
they were instructive. His attention was first directed 
to missionaiy enterprise in 1819, when he ^Vl•ote the 
well-known hymn, commencing : 

" From Greenland's icy mountain." 

This was first sung in the church of Wrexham, but is 
now known and admired wherever the English language 
is spoken. Early in the year 1822, Mr. Heber was ap- 
pointed preacher to Lincoln's Inn, and resolved to reside 
for the future three months of the year in London ; but 
in the close of the same year he received the oflter of 
the bishopric of Calcutta, which he accepted, though in 
a worldly point of view it was far from being advanta- 
geous. 

He had for many years felt a deep interest in the pro- 
gress of Christianity in British India; oriental climes 
had also a romantic charm in his mind, — "he loved to 
contemplate human nature in every varied form, and his 
imagination was keenly alive to the terrible natural phe- 
nomena of ti-opical climes, to the magnificence of their 
scenery, and the beauty and variety of their animal pro- 
ductions." But he did not quit England without a severe 
struggle between his feelings at separating from his 
friends, and his sense of duty in accepting the means of 
usefulness which Providence had placed before him. 
" Surely," he declares in a letter to a friend, "a priest 
should be like a soldier, who is bound to go on any ser- 
vice for which he thinks himself suited, and for which 
a fair opening occurs, however he may privately prefer 



208 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Staying at home, or flatter himself with the hope of a 
more advantageous situation afterwards." 

On the 16th of June, 1823, the bishop with his family 
sailed for India, " that land of disappointment, and sor- 
row, and death." On his landing in India, he wrote the 
following prayer : — 

" Accept, O blessed Lord, my hearty thanks for the 
protection which Thou hast vouchsafed to me and mine 
during a long and dangerous voyage, and through many 
strange and unwholesome climates. Extend to us, I 
beseech Thee, Thy fatherly protection and love in the 
land where we now dwell, and among the perils to which 
we are now liable. Give us health, strength, and peace 
of mind ; give us friends in a strange land, and favor in 
the eyes of those around us ; give us so much of this 
world's good as Thou knowest to be good for us ; and be 
pleased to give us gi'ace to love Thee truly, and constant- 
ly to praise and bless Thee, through Thy dear Son, 
Jesus Christ, our Savior. Amen." 

The duties of a diocese almost as extensive as an em- 
pire were onerous in the extreme, but Bishop Heber 
found time to forward the cause of native education in 
India; he superintended the completion of Bishop's 
College in Calcutta, and took an active part in the estab- 
lishment of schools, particularly those for the instruction 
of native females. In June, 1824, he began his exten- 
sive visitation, accompanied only by his domestic chap- 
lain and his native servants. His talents and his virtues 
made a deep impression in every place he visited ; he 
did not confine himself to the discharge of his episcopal 
duties, but carefully examined the state of the Hindoos 
under British rule, and pointed out to the government 
the best means of ameliorating their condition. In the 
course of his journey he visited Ceylon, and the follow- 
ing interesting account of the effect his presence produ- 
ced in that island, was published in the Report of the 
Church Missionary Society of Calcutta : — 

" The Bishop of Calcutta, in his visitations, inspected 
the schools, confirmed the native Christians, and admin- 
istered the sacrament, manifesting in eveiy place the 
liveliest interest in the missionary cause, and gladdening 
the Church by his presence. The native Christians 



BISHOP HEBER. 209 

have thus, for the first time, been brought into close and 
understood connection with our episcopal head ; for it 
was his practice at every station to administer the sa- 
cred elements to them, and pronounce the blessing in 
their own language, thus teaching them to regard him 
as their chief pastor, and winning them, in all other 
respects, by the most affectionate, conciliatory, and im- 
pressive address. A year, thus distinguished, can never 
be effaced from their minds ; they have learned to ap- 
preciate the privilege of being united in one body, ac- 
cording to the scriptural form and discipline of the 
English church." 

In February, 1826, Bishop Heber proceeded to the 
Madras Presidency, which he had been prevented from 
visiting in his former tour by the lateness of the season. 
His great exertions in this journey had a fatal effect on 
his health ; he died suddenly on the 3d of April, at Tri- 
chinopoly, while taking a cold bath. 

The feelings which his loss produced are thus de- 
scribed by his friend and companion Mr. Robinson, in a 
letter to the Society for promoting Christian Know- 



The Society will have participated largely in the 
feeling of universal sorrow, on the sudden removal of 
our excellent and amiable bishop from this field of his 
earthly labors ; and, when they learn that their missions 
in the south of India were his last and most anxious 
care, — that being thus engaged in his visitation of the 
peninsula, the last weeks of his invaluable life had been 
employed, with unremitting activity, in a minute inves- 
tigation of their actual state, and in devising new plans 
for their extended operation and future welfare, they 
will feel, I am persuaded, that their share in the gene- 
ral loss is gi-eat indeed. There is hardly a town in this 
vast empire where he was not known, not one where 
his name was not loved and honored ; but in no prov- 
ince is his loss so severely felt as in that which witness- 
ed his last labors among the humblest and poorest of his 
flock, the native Christians of Tanjore and Trichino- 
poly." 

It has been the lot of few to inspire such general re- 
spect, veneration, and affection as the lamented Bishop 
14 S3 



210 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Heber did. Indeed, to know him was to love him ; and 
in him the genius of true Christianity might be seen at 
once reflected, for he was mild and kind, and breathed 
peace and good-will among men ; he was a model of 
spiritual exaltation without pride, and of elevated virtue 
without austerity. Nor was it by his own flock alone 
that this good shepherd was beloved in life and lamented 
in death. All sects of Christians held him in the high- 
est estimation. In this sentiment they were joined by 
the natives of India who had an opportunity of apprecia- 
ting his character, and who, if they could not become 
his proselytes, were the unfeigned admirers of his tole- 
rance, benignity, and charity, and hold his memory in 
the highest reverence. 

To his premature death may be applied Montgome- 
ry's lines : — 

" Revolving his mysterious lot, 
We mourn him, but we praise him not, — 

Glory to God be given ; 
Who sent him, like the ethereal bow, 
His covenant of grace to show, 
Athwart amid the storm to glow, 

Then vanish into heaven." 



JOHN HOWARD. 



It is one of the proudest boasts of England, that no 
country has produced an equal number of men who 
have devoted their lives to the cause of general hu- 
manity, and sacrificed the ordinary objects of a-mbition 
to promote the welfare of their fellow-creatures, without 
any distinction of creed, color, or country. One of the 
most illusti-ious of this noble band was John Howard, 
the only son of a carpet- warehouseman, m London. 
He was born at Hackney in 1727, and was educated in 
the sti-ict principles of the Non-conformists, to which 
body his father belonged. More care was taken to 
secure his moral and religious principles than to instruct 
him in general literature, with the rudiments of which 
he ever remained imperfectly acquainted. Indeed, his 
education was early interrupted by his father's death, 
—those to whose care he was intrusted having bound 
him apprentice to a wholesale grocer. His health sut- 
fered severely from a mode of life to which he had not 
been accustomed. He devised a remedy for himself a 
system of rigid abstinence : at the age of sixteen he 
abandoned the use of animal food and of strong liquors ; 
and during the whole course of his career he persevered 
in using only the most meager diet. As he approached 
manhood he felt his dislike for business increase ; and 
as he had inherited a considerable fortune h-om his 
father, he purchased up his indentures, and set out on 
a tour through France and Italy. He returned home 
in a very feeble state of health: his weakness, his love 
of retirement and study, and his sti-ong love of natural 



212 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

scenery, induced him to quit the metropolis, and take 
lodgings in the house of Mrs. Lardeau, a widow, who 
resided at Stoke Newington. Here he was attacked 
by a dangerous fever, but was so carefully and tenderly 
nursed by his landlady, that he recovered, contrary to 
the expectation of the physicians. He felt so grateful to 
Mrs. Lardeau that he oft'ered her his hand, and, though 
many years older than himself, she became his wife. 
At the same time he evinced his usual generosity by 
settling the fortune to which the lady was entitled upon 
her sister. 

This union only lasted three years ; the lady died 
rather suddenly, and Howard, to divert his gi'ief, re- 
solved, in 1756, to visit Portugal, and examine the 
effects of the dreadful earthquake which had laid waste 
the city of Lisbon. On the voyage, the^ vessel in which 
he sailed was captured by a French privateer, and the 
crew was carried into Brest. The prisoners were 
ti-eated with great cruelty by their captors : they were 
kept more than forty hours without water, suffering all 
the agonies of burning thirst, and were then thrown 
into a loathsome prison, destitute of the means for 
proper light, drainage, and ventilation. His sufferings 
awakened his sympathies peculiarly in favor of pris- 
oners ; he collected accurate information of the treat- 
ment of his countrymen in Morlaix, and other depots 
for prisoners of war, which he transmitted to the 
British ministers. A remonstrance on the subject was 
addressed to the French government, and was so far 
effectual that prisoners were treated with greater hu- 
manity during the rest of the war. 

After his release, Mr. Howard made a tour in Italy, 
but preserved no memorial of his travels. On his re- 
turn to England he married a second time, but his wife 
died early, leaving him an only son. To the education 
of this child he resolved to devote his time ; but he 
adopted a rigid severity of discipline, which was quite 
unsuited to the boy's disposition, and which finally 
made a wrerk of his mind. In 1773 Mr. Howard 
became sheriff of Bedfordshire, an office which, to use 
his own words, "brought the distress of prisoners 
more immediately under his notice." Finding that 



JOHN HOWARD. 213 

many abuses prevailed which he did not know how to 
remedy, he made a tour of inspection to the principal 
jails and houses of correction in England, examining the 
different systems established in each, and comparing 
their several defects and advantages. The state of 
prisons in England was at this time truly deplorable : 
there was no classification of prisoners ; the sanatory 
regulations for cleanliness and ventilation were inefficient 
in themselves, and still more imperfectly enforced; con- 
tagious diseases of the most fatal kinds were generated, 
which often proved desti-uctive, not only to the inmates 
of jails, but to the functionaries employed in the admin- 
istration of justice. At length the government became 
alarmed, and a committee of the House of Commons 
was appointed to investigate the subject in 1774. Mr. 
Howard was examined before the committee ; he pre- 
sented them a mass of the most valuable and accurate 
information, for which he was rewarded by the unani- 
mous thanks of the house. It was principally on his 
recommendation that acts were passed in this sesssion 
to relieve acquitted prisoners from the payment of fees, 
and to establish sanatoiy regulations for the health of 
prisoners. 

Thus encouraged, Mr. Howard resolved to pursue 
the new path of philanthropy which lay open before 
him. It cost him, however, a great effort to quit his 
home at Cardington; he had there put in practice the 
schemes he had devised for promoting the welfare of 
his tenants by building them comfoitable cottages, and 
attaching to each a patch of ground for a garden. He 
had erected schools for the industrial as well as the 
literary education of children of both sexes, and had 
taken an active part in promoting hospitals and other 
useful institutions. He was also much attached to 
horticulture, and the study of the physical sciences, 
frequently communicating the results of his observations 
to the Royal Society, of which he was a member. It 
was, however, said, that he made too little allowance 
for the frailties of human nature, and that he was as 
harsh to those who had swei-ved from his rigid rule of 
rectitude as he was generous to the objects of hia 
peculiar benevolence. There was, no doubt, a strong 



214 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

tinge of obstinacy in his character ; for, when he was 
resisted in some details of the plan he had formed for 
penitentiaries, he resigned the office of supervisor of 
those establishments, to which he had been appointed 
by the personal favor of his sovereign. 

The death of his sister having made a large addition 
to his fortune, he looked upon the event as a special in- 
terposition of Providence to aid the benevolent designs he 
had formed. He therefore resumed his inspection of 
British prisons, and extended his researches into foreign 
countries. It may serve to give some notion of his la- 
bors, to state that in addition to his numerous tours 
through Great Britain, between the years 1775 and 
1787, he traveled three times through France, four 
times through Germany, five times through Holland, 
twice through Italy, once through Spain and Portugal, 
and once through the northern provinces of Turkey. 
He published an account of Enghsh prisons in 1777, 
with a great number of illustrative plates, and to insure 
its circulation he fixed the price so low that the cost of 
the plates was defrayed out of his own pockets. He 
adopted the same course with his Appendix on the 
State of Foreign Prisons, and both publications produced 
a strong impression on the mind of the country. The 
strong good sense and moderation of his narrative, con- 
trasted with the enthusiastic ardor which alone could 
have supported him in such an undertaking, gave unex- 
ampled weight to his recommendations. Parliament 
passed an act for establishing houses of correction, in 
which his proposed ameliorations of discipline were 
adopted. But while engaged in examining the state of 
prisons, his attention was directed to hospitals, and other 
charitable institutions, where great abuses prevailed. 
He was the first to point out the serious evils which 
were permitted in the charter-schools of Ireland, evils 
which rendered these institutions almost a national nui- 
sance. 

In 1784 Howard republished his first works on pris- 
ons, with an Appendix containing all the additional in- 
formation he had acquired. The task which he had 
prescribed to himself was completed ; his fame as a 
philanthropist was so established that a subscription had 



JOHN HOWARD. 215 

been raised to erect his statue, and the design was aban- 
doned only in consequence of his own urgent remon- 
strances. His prison reforms had not only been adopted 
in England, but had been imitated by the principal pow- 
ers on the Continent. Still he deemed that humanity 
had further claims on his attention. The progi-ess of 
contagion in prisons and hospitals had so frequently come 
under his notice that he resolved to study the means by 
which it might be most effectually checked ; and for this 
purpose he resolved to observe what was deemed the 
most contagious of all disorders — the plague. He set out 
on this expedition in 1785, unaccompanied by a single ser- 
vant, because he did not think it justifiable to expose to 
similai- dangers any one who was not supported by the 
same motives as himself. His tour extended through 
the south of France, and Italy, whence he pursued his 
way to Malta, Zante, Smyrna, and Constantinople. 
From the latter capital he returned to Smyrna, having 
heard that the plague raged there, for the purpose of 
going to Venice with a foul bill of health, so that he 
might be subjected to all the rigors of quarantine in the 
lazaretto, and thus become practically acquainted with 
its rules and regulations. Having gone through this 
ordeal, he returned to England through Vienna, where 
he had an interview with the Emperor Joseph, a mon- 
arch who with all his faults took a lively interest in every 
scheme of practical benevolence. 

While preparing his work on Lazarettos for the press, 
he again revisited the prisons and hospitals of England 
and Ireland, where he had the satisfaction to find that 
many great improvements had been made. His literaiy 
labor occupied him for more than a year, but he had the 
satisfaction to find that it was received with great avidity. 
In the conclusion of this work he announced his inten- 
tion of extending his researches to Russia, Turkey, and 
Western Asia. 

" I am not insensible," said he, " of the dangers that 
must attend such a journey. Trusting, however, in the 
protection of that kind Providence which has hitherto 
preserved me, I calmly and cheerfully commit myself 
to the disposal of unerring Wisdom. Should it please 
God to cut off my life in the prosecution of this design, 



216 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

let not my conduct be uncandidly imputed to rashness 
or enthusiasm, but to a serious, deliberate conviction that 
1 am pursuing the path of duty, and to a sincere desire 
of being made an instrument of more extended usefulness 
to my fellow-creatures than could be expected in the 
narrower cu'cles of a retired life." 

Many of Howard's friends endeavored to dissuade 
him from this his last journey ; but the confirmed in- 
sanity of his son had rendered home distasteful, and he 
naturally sought relief in pursuing those inquiries which 
habit had invested with peculiar attractions. 

He quitted England in the summer of 1789, and pro- 
ceeded through Germany to St. Petersburgh and Mos- 
cow. The prisons and hospitals were everyw^here freely 
thrown open to his inspection, as if his seli-chosen office 
of censor of such establishments had been recognized by 
the civilized world. After a short stay at Moscow he 
proceeded to the Russian settlements on the Black Sea, 
and reached Cherson when the place was suffering from 
a fever of the most malignant kind. Among its victims 
was a young lady, whom he visited because he believed 
that he possessed some medical skill, but he caught the 
infection himself, and died January 20, 1790. The 
Russian authorities paid all possible honors to his mem- 
ory ; his death, contraiy to all precedent, was announced 
in the " London Gazette," and a splendid monument 
was erected to commemorate his benevolent deeds in 
St. Paul's Cathedral^ by his admiring countrymen. The 
bare recital of Howard's actions renders any eulogium on 
his character unnecessary ; he may be said literally to 
have lived for mankind ; in all his labors he showed aji 
utter forgetfulness of self, and in the last scene of his 
hfe he exhibited the finnne&s af a philosopher united to 
the piety of a Christian. 



DR. JENNER. 



Few diseases have been more completely subjected 
to medical skill than the small-pox, which at the begin- 
ning of the present century was calculated to have de- 
stroyed one out of every ten children that came mto the 
world, while on many of those who survived, it left dis- 
figuring and almost disgusting marks, which were never 
efl'aced during their hves. An antidote has been discov- 
ered, which, though not in all instances perfectly effica- 
cious, affords complete security to far the greater num- 
ber, and even in the exceptional cases diminishes the 
virulence and abates the danger. This antidote has 
received the name of vaccination, because it consists in 
giving the patient an artificial disease by inoculation with 
matter taken from a cow, and this is found to check, and 
almost to prevent the susceptibility of the frame for the 
perilous small-pox. 

Edward Jenner, the author of this precious discovery, 
was the third son of a clergyman, who held the vicarage 
of Berkeley, in Gloucestershire, where he was born 
May 17th, 1749. His father died in 1754, but his elder 
brother, Stephen, undertook the care of his education, 
and faithfully discharged the duties of a parent toward 
him. At a very early age he evinced such a fondness 
and aptitude for the study of Natural Histoiy, that his 
family resolved to bring him up to the medical profession, 
and at the usual age he was apprenticed to Mr. Ludlow, 
a surgeon practicing at Lodbury, near Bristol. Having 
completed his course under this gentleman, he came to 
London and placed himself under the tuition of the 
T 



218 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

eminent John Hunter, in whose house he resided as a 
friend rather than a pupil, for more than two years. 
The intimacy thus formed continued until Hunter's 
death ; they maintained a coiTespondence on facts and 
experiments in natural history, in which both showed 
equal zeal and ability for the advancement of that sci- 
ence. In consequence of the knowledge which Jenner 
displayed, he was appointed, on Hunter's recommenda- 
tion, to superintend the ai'rangeinent of the collections 
in natural history which had been made by Sir Joseph 
Banks during Captain Cook's first voyage round the 
world. He performed this task so well, that he was 
offered the situation of naturalist in the second expedi- 
tion sent out under that eminent navigator ; though this 
proposal must have been highly gi'atifying to so young 
a man, and the situation would have afforded him unri- 
valed opportunities for the pursuit of his favorite studies, 
he declined it, as he did several other offers of a similar 
nature. He was requested to accept a very lucrative 
situation in India ; he was invited by Hunter to join in 
establishing a school of natural histoiy and medicine in 
London ; but he preferred the secluded life of a medical 
practitioner in a rural district, and estabhshed himself at 
Berkeley, in the Vale of Gloucester. It has been as- 
serted, and we believe with truth, that he had, even at 
this early age, obtained some clue to the discovery which 
has immortalized his name, and that he was anxious to 
obtain the leisure and retirement necessary for a series 
of experiments which must, to prove decisive, spread 
over a great number of years. 

Jenner's residence at Berkeley was so tranquil and 
unostentatious as to present little which can furnish 
materials to biogi-aphy. He was admired by a large 
circle of friends, regarded as the best physician in the 
neighborhood, and courted by all the lovei-s of science in 
the West of England. His chief amusement was natu- 
ral histoiy, including geology, a science then in its in- 
fancy, for the study of which the Vale of Gloucester 
afforded ample opportunities, the neighborhood abound- 
ing with fossil remains, and exhibiting a great variety of 
ten*estrial sti'ucture in the dislocations of its sti-atifica- 
tion. He was also a member of two medical societies 



DR. JENNER. 219 

which had been formed in his neighborhood, and it is 
said that he so often inti'oduced the subject of vaccina- 
tion, as to induce the members to pass a rule prohibiting 
the inti-oduction of the topic. Nor were they alone in 
their skepticism ; Hunter recommended his friend not 
to risk his reputation by publishing what appeared to be 
a vague speculation. He had at this time acquired great 
fame by an essay on the Habits of the Cuckoo, the re- 
sult of several years of observation, which was printed 
in the Transactions of the Royal Society, and procured 
for the author admission to that scientific body. In 
March, 1788, he married Miss Kingcote, by whom he 
had several children, and rarely has there been a union 
more productive of domestic happiness. 

We come now to speak of the great medical discovery 
which has immortalized his name. Early in the eigh- 
teenth century Lady Mary Wortley Montague had in- 
troduced the practice of inoculation into England, and 
it was found that the small-pox, thus artificially com- 
municated, was less fatal and less injurious than when 
taken from infection. It had also been long observed 
that persons employed in the milking of cows were very 
rarely attacked by the small-pox, but that they took 
from the animals a milder disease, which was familiarly 
known by the name of cow-pox. 

This was a milder disease, communicated by an erup- 
tion of vesicles, which occasionally appears on the ud- 
ders of cows, to the hands of the milkers. Jenner's 
patient observations showed him, that, to communicate 
cow-pox, the matter or lymph contained in these vesi- 
cles must be actually inserted under the skin, or appUed 
to a raw and absorbing surface ; and that the disease 
thus communicated had the peculiarity of affording se- 
curity against the infection of the small-pox. The notion 
of introducing an animal disease into the human frame 
was so opposed to all former systems of medical prac- 
tice, that, though Jenner had communicated his discov- 
ery to Hunter in 1770, thirty years elapsed before it 
was adopted in general practice, and twenty-six years 
before its efficacy was tested by direct experiment. 

On the 14th of May, 1796, a day which is still cele- 
brated as a festival in Berlin and other continental cities. 



220 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

an opportunity was afforded him of subjecting his long- 
cherished idea to an experimental trial. On that day- 
he inoculated a boy of the name of Phipps, in the arm, 
from a pustule on the hand of a young woman who was 
infected by her master's cows. The disease took, and 
the boy went through it favorably. On the 1st of the 
following July he was inoculated for the small-pox, and, 
as Jenner had predicted, was found not to be suscepti- 
ble of infection. The feelings of the sanguine philan- 
thropist on this occasion may best be described by him- 
self: — '"While the vaccine discovery was progressive, 
the joy I felt at the prospect of being the instrument 
destined to take away from the woi*ld one of its greatest 
calamities, blended with the fond hope of enjoying inde- 
pendence, and domestic peace and happiness, was often 
so excessive, that, in pursuing my favorite subject among 
the meadows, I have often found myself in a reverie. 
It is pleeisant to me to recollect that these reflections 
always ended in devout acknowledgments to that Being 
from whom this and all other mercies flow." 

In June, 1798, Jenner published his discovery to the 
world, accompanied by a detail of several cases illustrat- 
ing its efficiency. The clear and modest style of his 
pamphlet, and the undeniable facts which it detailed, 
soon won public attention, and in 1799 the practice of 
vaccination was firmly established in London. It must 
be confessed that subsequent experience has shown the 
protection not to be quite so complete as Jenner had be- 
lieved. But while the rate of mortality from variolous 
disease is among the vaccinated not more than three in 
2,000, among the inoculated it amounted to more than 
forty in 2,000. 

In 1802 a parliamentary inquiry was instituted into 
the value of the new method of preventing the small- 
pox, including Jenner's claims to the merits of the dis- 
covery. The result was so satisfactory, that a grant of 
10,000Z. was voted to him as a tribute of national gi*ati- 
tude. Five years after, when it appeared from experi- 
ence that vaccination had been the means of saving 
45,000 lives annually in England alone, and had saved a 
still larger number from the disfiguring effects of a dis- 
gusting and dreadful malady, he received an additional 



DR. JENNER. 221 

grant of 20,000^.; and seldom has public money been 
more honorably bestowed, or more worthily earned. 

Neither the fame he had acquired, the wealth he had 
received, nor the honors which were offered to him in 
abundance, could withdraw Jenner from his retirement 
at Berkeley. He remained there in the enjoyment of 
rural life and domestic happiness, until he was overtaken 
by death, February, 1823, in the 74th year of his age. 

An institution for the encouragement of vaccination 
was established in London, which still continues to dif- 
fuse the blessings of this precious antidote to the destruc- 
tive small-pox, at the public charge. On the Continent 
the extension of vaccination is deemed an object worthy 
the special attention of the government, and the diminu- 
tion of mortality from the small-pox is, therefore, more 
striking in many parts of Europe than it is in England. 
Recently, however, the extension of vaccination has en- 
gaged a larger share of the cares of government, and we 
may be permitted to hope that the ravages of small-pox 
will only be known through history to the next gen- 
eration. 

t2 



SIR WILLIAM JONES. 



The cultivation of oriental literature has been com- 
paratively neglected in England, though the magnitude 
of our East Indian possessions gives it higher importance 
in this countiy than in any other part of Europe. It is 
chiefly owing to the exertions and example of Sir Wil- 
liam Jones that the literary treasures of Arabia, Persia, 
and India have been opened to English students ; and it 
should enhance our gratitude for such services, that they 
were achieved while their author performed the labori- 
ous duties of an upright magisti'ate, and an enlightened 
benefactor of the native population of Hindostan. This 
eminent personage was born in London, September 
20th, 1746. His father, who had attained such emi- 
nence as a mathematician as to be associated with the 
labors of Newton, died before the child attained his third 
year ; the care of his early education then devolved on 
his mother, a lady equally eminent for her virtues and 
her talents, who devoted herself to the task with equal 
zeal and prudence. From her the youth acquired that 
thirst for learning and facility of profitable application, 
by which he was distinguished through the whole of his 
useful life. He repaid her care with the most ardent 
filial affection, and while she sui-vived, exhibited towai'd 
her the most grateful and undeviating respect. 

At the early age of seven he was sent to Hari'ow. He 
did not exhibit any exti-aordinary quickness of parts, but 
was distinguished rather for steadiness and perseverance, 
by which he ti'iumphed over the preliminary difficulties 
in the study of the learned languages. When he had 



SIR WILLIAM JONES. 223 

triumphed over these, his progress became singularly 
rapid ; he not only acquired a deeper knowledge of clas- 
sical literature than is usual with schoolboys, but ac- 
quired the French and Italian languages, and made some 
progress in the study of Hebrew and Arabic. 

He entered University College, Oxford, in 1764, and 
so far outstripped his competitors, that he was elected 
to a fellowship before he was of sufficient standing to 
graduate as a Bachelor of Arts. Oriental literature, 
then a very rare acquirement in England, was his favor- 
ite pursuit. He maintained out of his slender funds at 
Oxford a native Syrian, with whom he had accidentally 
become acquainted in London, under whose insti'uction 
he became a proficient in the Arabic, after which he 
proceeded to the study of the Persian language. The 
office of private tutor in the family of Earl Spencer, 
which he accepted in 1756, aiforded him valuable oppor- 
tunities for pursuing his favorite studies. His pupil was 
too young to engage much of his time, and he had leis- 
ure to profit by the valuable library of Althorpe, Earl 
Spencer's seat, and by occasional visits to London and 
the Continent. 

In 1768 the King of Denmark transmitted to the 
English government a Persian Life of Nadir Shah, 
which he was anxious to have translated. The task 
was assigned to Mr. Jones, who was not more than two- 
and-twenty ; he showed his powers over two foreign 
languages, by translating the work into French, and pre- 
fixing to it, in the same language, "A treatise on Orien- 
tal Poetry," in which several of the odes of Hafiz are 
rendered into verse. This work excited more attention 
on the Continent than in England, and it holds a distin- 
guished rank in French literature at the present day. 
This was followed by his " Commentaries on Asiatic 
Poetry," wi-itten in Latin, which is one of the most 
classical productions in that language which has come 
from the pen of a modern author. 

A love of independence was a marked feature in the 
character of Mr. Jones ; he resigned his situation in the 
Spencer family, which was certain to lead to ease and 
competence ; but he retained the affection and respect 
of his pupil, who never ceased to regard him as a friend. 



224 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

He fearlessly advocated opinions not calculated to facili- 
tate his advancement ; he denounced the American war 
before it had become unpopular with the great majority 
of the nation ; he was an early and zealous advocate of 
reform in Parliament; and he exposed the abominations 
of the slave-trade with the greatest zeal and energy. 
When he became a member of the Middle Temple in 
1770, he deemed it necessary to relax his oriental pur- 
suits, in order to devote the requisite attention to his 
professional studies ; but he, nevertheless, translated the 
" Moallakat," or seven ancient Arabic poems, which on 
account of their merit had been suspended in the Tem- 
ple of Mecca, and he produced some pieces of original 
poetry, remarkable for purity and vigor of expression. 
In 1778 he published a work, which showed that he 
had not laid aside his classical tastes, but had found a 
means of combining them with the study of jurispru- 
dence ; we allude to his translation of the orations of 
Isaeus, which relate to the common law of Athens, par- 
ticularly in regard to the succession to propeity. This 
was a subject which seems to have engi'ossed a large 
share of his attention, and it is believed that he intended 
to have prepared an extensive survey of the various 
laws of succession that have been adopted by various 
ages and nations, with special reference to the ameliora- 
tion of the customs by which succession is regulated in 
England ; but he pursued the subject no further than 
the publication of two translations of Arabic works on 
the Mohammedan law of inheritance. Nearly at the 
same time he published an essay on the " Law of Bail- 
ments," probably for the purpose of showing that his 
oriental and classical pursuits had not withdrawn his 
attention from his immediate profession. 

Mr. Jones was called to the bar in 1774, and two years 
afterward, by the interest of some powerful friends, was 
appointed a Commissioner of Bankrupts. As he was a 
personal friend of the premier. Lord North, he might 
have obtained preferment, had he not persevered in as- 
sailing the ministiy for provoking an insurrection in 
America, and for the despotic tendency of its favorite 
measures. He was anxious to enter Parliament, and 
offered himself as a candidate for the representation of 



sill WILLIAM JONES. 225 

the University of Oxford ; but his political opinions were 
not calculated to win the favor of that learned body, and, 
though respectably supported, he did not venture to go 
to a poll. Thus disappointed, he fixed his mind on 
India, where he became anxious to obtain a judicial 
appointment ; but his politics were obnoxious to the 
party in power, and the object of his wishes was not 
obtained until after the formation of the Shelburne 
ministry. On the 3d of March, 1783, he was appointed 
to the bench of the Supreme Court of Calcutta, to 
which he was warmly recommended by Lord Ashbur- 
ton, who, as Mr. Dunning, had acquired the reputation 
of being the best lawyer in England. Having thus se- 
cured competency, he married Miss Shipley, the daugh- 
ter of the Bishop of St. Asaph, a lady to whom he had 
been long attached, but had deferred his union until his 
circumstances would enable him to support a family. 
In the preceding year he had written an " Essay on the 
Principle of Government, in a dialogue between a 
Farmer and a Country Gentleman ;" it was a bold and 
fearless discussion of constitutional questions, but exhib- 
ited something of a leaning toward republican principles. 
The Dean of St. Asaph, the brotlier-in-law of the au- 
thor, having reprinted this work, was indicted for libel ; 
and it was in defending his case that Erskine first estab- 
lished his professional reputation. 

Sir William Jones, having received the honor of 
knighthood on his promotion to the bench, sailed for 
Calcutta, where he arrived in December, 1783. Pre- 
vious to his appointment, the judges of the Supreme 
Court, though bound to adjudicate according to the 
native laws, were for the most part utterly ignorant of 
the language in which these laws were written. Hence 
they were compelled to have recourse to native lawyers, 
called pundits, who were regularly attached to the 
courts in the capacity of assessors. Many of these 
were mercenary and corrupt men, who designedly mis- 
led the English judges, and, by misrepresenting the law. 
frequently made them the instruments of great injustice. 
Sir W. Jones declared that "he could not, with an easy 
conscience, concur in any decision, merely on the writ- 
ten opinion of native lawyers, in a case in which they 
15 



226 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

could have the remotest interest in misleading the 
court." 

The obvious remedy was to procure an English 
translation of the code of Hindoo laws, and this task had 
been undertaken by Mr. Halhed ; but as this gentle- 
man was ignorant of Sanscrit, he had taken for his au- 
thority a defective Persion version of the original, which 
had been compiled by the order of the emperors of Delhi 
for the use of their Mohammedan judges. The Persian 
ti-anslator had endeavored to bring the Hindoo Institutes 
into harmony with those of the Koran, and had made 
so many changes for this purpose, that the work was 
quite destitute of authority. To remedy this evil, Sir 
W. Jones, in addition to his heavy judicial labors, com- 
menced the study of Sanscrit, and, after five years of 
unremitting toil, made himself master of that most diffi- 
cult language. He then commenced his greatest work, 
a translation of " The Ordinances of Menu," which he 
describes in his preface as a " system of duties religious 
and civil, and of law in all its branches, which the Hin- 
doos firmly believe to have been promulgated in the be- 
ginning of time by Menu, son or gi-andson of Brahma, 
or, in plain language, the first of created beings, and not 
the oldest only, but the holiest of legislators — a system 
so comprehensive, and so minutely exact, that it may be 
considered as the Institutes of Hindoo law, preparatory 
to the copious digest which has lately been prepared by 
pundits of eminent learning." This was his last work ; 
for though begun in 1780, it was not completed and 
published until 1794, a short time before the author's 
death. 

The Asiatic Society of Calcutta, the parent of similar 
societies in most European capitals, was founded by Sir 
William Jones ; he was its first president, and held that 
office during his life. In this capacity he delivered 
eleven anniversaiy addresses in successive years, which 
continue to be an unrivaled collection of well-digested 
information respecting the antiquities, arts, and history 
of Asiatic nations. As a taste for oriental studies began 
to be diffused, Sir W. Jones saw that gi-eat inconve- 
nience would arise, unless some uniform system should 
be adopted for correctly representing Asiatic alphabets 



SIR WILLIAM JONES. 227 

in Roman characters. The plan which he devised for 
this purpose is far the best that has ever been produced ; 
but, unfortunately, too many have preferred schemes of 
their own, and so disfigured oriental names, as to render 
their identification a matter of great difificulty. The 
system of Sir William Jones is that which has been 
adopted by the Oriental Translation Committee, and by 
the most eminent scholars on the Continent. 

Sir W. Jones was the first who called attention to the 
Hindoo drama ; he translated the drama of " Sacontala; 
or, the Fatal Ring," supposed to have been composed 
in the century preceding the Christian era. It contains 
a lively, simple, and pleasing picture of the manners of 
Hindostan at a remote age. In later times, the best of 
the Indian theatrical pieces have been selected and pub- 
lished by Professor H. H. Wilson, whose contributions 
to oriental literature have not been surpassed in number 
or value by any of the present generation. 

Botany was one of the favorite pursuits of Sir Wil- 
liam Jones, and the taste which he introduced for this 
study in Calcutta still continues to prevail. Poetry was 
sought as a relaxation from his graver studies, and the 
pieces which he pubhshed in the " Asiatic Miscellany" 
display a rich fancy, united to great harmony of compo- 
sition. In private life he was beloved by aU who ob- 
tained the favor of his acquaintance, and, as he was very 
hospitable and easy of access, his circle was very large. 
The indisposition of Lady Jones, in 1793, rendered it 
necessary that she should return to England ; her aflfec- 
tionate husband remained behind, in the hope of com- 
pleting his great task, the " Digest of the Hindoo Laws." 
But his arduous labors in this torrid climate had proved 
too much for his strength ; he was seized with inflam- 
matory disease, and died April 27th, 1794. 

Few men have acquired such extensive knowledge of 
foreign languages and foreign literature as Sir Wil- 
liam Jones. A hst preserved in his own handwriting, 
thus classes those with which he was in any degree 
acquainted; they are twenty-eight in number: — 
"Eight languages studied critically: English, Latin, 
French, Italian, Greek, Arabic, Persian, Sanscrit. 
Eight studied less perfectly, but all intelligible with a 



228 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

dictionary : Spanish, Portuguese, German, Runic, He- 
brew. Bengali, Hindi, Turlcish. Twelve studied less 
perfectly, but all attainable : Tibetian, Pall, Deri, Pah- 
.iar, Russian, Syriac, Ethiopic, Coptic, Welsh, Sweed- 
ish, Dutch. Chinese." 

His works exhibit an unrivaled mastery over a vast 
variety of subjects, and the elegance of his style gives 
interest to the most recondite of his dissertations. 
These are his best, but not his only monuments ; a 
statue was erected to his memory in St. Paul's Cathe- 
dral, at the expense of the East India Company, and a 
tablet, recording his virtues, has been erected in Uni- 
versity College, Oxford. We cannot better conclude, 
than by ti-anscribing the affectionate panegyric pro- 
nounced on this gi-eat man by one of his earliest friends, 
Dr. Bennet, Bishop of Cloyne, a see recently suppressed 
in Ireland. 

" I knew him from the early age of eight or nine, 
and he was always an uncommon boy. Great abilities, 
great peculiarities of thinking, fondness for wi*iting 
verses and plays of various kinds, and a degree of in- 
tegrity and manly courage, of which I remember many 
instances, distinguished him even at that period. I 
loved and revered him, and, though one or two years 
older than he was, was always instructed by him from 
my earliest age. In a word, I can only say of this 
wonderful man, that he had more virtues and less 
faults than I ever yet saw in any human being ; and 
that the goodness of his head, admirable as it was, was 
exceeded by that of his heart. I have never ceased to 
admire him from the moment I first saw him ; and my 
esteem for his great qualities, and regret for his loss, 
will only cease with my life." 



SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH. 



The life of a man who possessed great abilities and 
gi-eat opportunities, but who, neither as an author nor a 
statesman, effected any great work or object, may seem 
to possess little interest. But there are men whose 
indirect influence has gi-eat effect in directing public 
opinion, whose efforts, though desultory and irregular, 
give impulses which set thought in motion, and become 
guides in the formation of opinion, though their agency 
cannot always be clearly traced. Such appears to have 
been the fate of Mackintosh ; few of his performances 
came up to the promise of his powers, or the expecta- 
tions of his friends ; and yet his failures gave abundant 
proof that it was in his power to realize both. He was 
born near Inverness, October 24th, 1765, and, his father 
being abroad on military service, was educated in his 
tender years by his mother and his aunts. Little is 
known of his early progress ; he was sent to a pro- 
vincial school, where he acquired the usual rudiments 
of learning, but at the same time formed those habits 
of desultory reading and iiTegular study which are so 
often found fatal to the brightest talents. 

In 1780 he went to college at Aberdeen, where he 
made the acquaintance of Robert Hall, afterwards the 
most eminent of modern dissenting divines. Both had 
a marked taste for metaphysical speculations and in- 
quiries, but Mackintosh was more disposed to investi- 
gate the progi-ess of philosophical ooinion in tne history 
of manlund, while Hall was more mclined to study the 
analysis of individual mind. 



230 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Their disputations on the most abstruse subjects of 
metaphysics were mutually advantageous, and their 
veiy dissimilarity of disposition called into action facul- 
ties of thought which might othei-wise have lain dor- 
mant. 

Mackintosh was anxious to enter the legal profession, 
but his father's fortune being deemed inadequate to 
meet the hazard of so uncertain a pursuit, he went to 
Edinburgh, in 1784, to study medicine. He had pre- 
viously formed stronger political opinions than are 
usually found at so early an age, and this circumstance 
facilitated his introduction to the leading Whigs of the 
Scottish metropolis, most of whom were eminent for 
their attainments in science or hterature. A taste for 
study was then fashionable in Edinburgh. Sir James 
Mackintosh in a later day wrote, " I am not ignorant of 
what Edinburgh then was ; I may truly say that it is 
not easy to conceive a university where industry was 
more general, where reading was more fashionable, 
where indolence and ignorance were more disrepu- 
table." "But," he adds, "accurate and applicable 
knowledge were deserted for speculations not suscep- 
tible of certainty, nor of any immediate reference to 
the purposes of life. Strength was exhausted in vain 
leaps to catch what is too high for our reach. Youth, 
the season of humble diligence, was often wasted in 
vast and fruitless projects. Speculators could not re- 
main submissive learners." 

Having taken his medical degi-ee with some distinc- 
tion. Mackintosh came to reside in London. His 
father's death, which took place in the same year, 
1788, did not add much to his income, and an early 
marriage with Miss Catherine Stuart seemed likely to 
aggravate his difficulties. Fortunately, the lady pos- 
sessed the firmness of mind and the prudential care in 
which her husband was deficient; she stimulated him 
to exertion, cheered his efforts, and studied every 
means of rousing him to the habitual and methodical 
exercise of his faculties. 

After some vain efl^brts to establish himself in the 
medical profession, Mackintosh resolved to turn his 
attention to the bar, and at the same time he made 



SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH. 231 

some addition to his income by writing for the news- 
papers. Dm-ing a short visit to the continent, he had 
directed his attention to the political condition of Em-ope, 
then little understood in England, and had felt an ardent 
admiration of the earlier stages of the French revolu- 
tion, and the first proceedings of the States General. 
When Burke's celebrated Reflections appeared, in 
which the French revolution and its authors were 
denounced with unexampled vehemence and severity, 
Mackintosh was one of the many who entered the field 
as an antagonist to the great statesman, and he was the 
only one whose reply produced a strong impression on 
the public mind. His Vindicice Gallicce rivaled Burke's 
great work in beauty of style and felicity of illustration ; 
it was indeed less eloquent, but it was more logical, — 
less ardent, but more classical. Unlike other conti-o- 
versialists, Mackintosh evinced sincere respect for the 
talents and virtues of his opponent; Burke himself 
read the work with pleasure, and became the firm 
friend of his honorable adversary. 

The Vindicice Gallicce brought Mackintosh into inti- 
mate acquaintance with Fox and the other leaders of 
the Whig party, but the progi-ess of events in France 
soon showed that Burke was the better prophet, and 
Mackintosh was exposed to much obloquy when those 
whom he had so eagerly defended, suUied themselves 
by atrocious crimes. Having paid great attention to the 
study of the law of nations, he proposed to deliver a 
course of lectures on the subject at Lincoln's Inn ; but 
the benchers long opposed the project, believing that he 
might avail himself of such an opportunity to dissemmate 
revolutionary principles. When, however, he published 
what he had intended to be his introductory lecture, 
under the title of a Discourse on the Law of Nature 
and Nations, it was found that such apprehensions were 
wholly groundless; the cruelties which had followed 
the French revolution not only abated his ardor for that 
event, but led him to expose the delusiveness of the 
expectations which he had himself formed. Some 
violent members of the opposition went so far as to 
accuse him of apostasy, but this was a gi-oundless 
charge, for he continued to support the true principles 



232 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH, 

of liberty, while he denounced licentiousness. His lec- 
tures were universally admired; Fox and Pitt united in 
complimenting him, the latter declaring that " he had 
never met anything so able or so elegant on the subject 
in any language." 

Having lost his first wife immediately after his being 
called to the bar, he formed a second man-iage in 1798 
with Miss Allen, a lady of ancient family in Wales. 
This union was as happy as the first, and he found that 
domestic happiness gave support and encouragement to 
public exertion. In 1800, he delivered the speech at the 
bar which is usually regarded as the highest eflfort of his 
genius. It was in defence of Peltier, a French emigrant 
who had published some bitter libels on Napoleon Bo- 
naparte, and had been in consequence prosecuted at the 
request of the French government. Though one of the 
most magnificent orations ever made at the bar, it must 
be confessed that the speech is rather an eloquent pane- 
gyric on the liberty of the press, that a successful de- 
fence of the accused. Its conclusion deserves to be 
quoted, not only as a specimen of the orator's great 
powers, but also of his manly spirit and independence. 

" In the court where we are now met," said he, 
" Cromwell twice sent a satirist on his tyranny to be 
convicted and punished as a libeler ; and in this court, 
almost in sight of the scafltbld streaming with the blood 
of his sovereign, within hearing of the clash of his bayo- 
nets, which drove out Parliaments with contumely, two 
successive juries rescued the inti-epid satirist from his 
fangs, and sent out with defeat and disgiace the 
usurper's attorney-general, from what he had the in- 
solence to call his court. Even then, gentlemen, when 
all law and liberty were ti-ampled under the feet of a 
military banditti — when those great crimes were per- 
petrated, on a high plan and with a high hand, against 
those who were the objects of public veneration, which 
more than anything else upon earth overwhelm the 
minds of men, break their spirits, and confound their 
moral sentiments, obliterate the distinction between right 
and wrong in the understanding, and teach the multitude 
to feel no longer any reverence for the justice which 
they see thus triumphantly dragged at the chariot 



SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH. 233 

wheels of a tyrant — even then, when this unhappy 
countiy, triumphant indeed abroad, but enslaved at 
home, had no prospect but that of a long succession of 
tyrants wading through slaughter to a throne — even 
then, I say, when all seemed lost, the unconquerable 
spirit of English liberty survived in the hearts of Eng- 
lish jurors. That spirit is, I trust in God, not extinct ; 
and if any modern tyrant were, in the drunkenness of 
his insolence, to hope to awe an English jury, I ti'ust 
and believe that they would tell him, ' Our ancestors 
braved the bayonets of Cromwell, we bid defiance to 
yours ;' Contempsi Catilince gladios, non pertimescam 

The gi'owing jealousy between the governments of 
France and England, which soon led to a renewal of 
hostilities, rendered Mackintosh's exposure of the ty- 
ranny of Napoleon very acceptable to the ministers. 
His former opposition was forgotten ; he received the 
honors of knighthood, and was appointed Recorder of 
Bombay. Many of his friends were averse to his ac- 
cepting any office under government, and others doubted 
the prudence of his taking a colonial appointment in a 
remote colony, at a time when his established reputation 
at the bar insured him fame and fortune. But his 
family was large, the recordership of Bombay did not 
seem likely to occupy much of his time, and he trusted 
to have abundant leisure for the composition of some 
gi'eat literary work. He was, however, disappointed ; 
the emoluments of his situation were less than he ex- 
pected, and the cost of living in India more than he had 
calculated. The enervating climate of the East in- 
creased his constitutional tendency to indolence ; and 
during the seven years that he remained in Bombay, 
though he projected many important works, he never 
seriously entered on the execution of any. 

As a judge, Sir James Mackintosh deservedly obtained 
a very high reputation. He diligently studied the char- 
acter of the natives, and labored hard to correct their 
prevailing vices, particularly that recklessness in bearing 
false testimony and committing perjury, which has ever 
proved the greatest obstacle to the administration of jus- 
tice in India. Though he always acted on the principle. 
u 2 



234 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

that certainty of punishment is far more efficacious than 
severity in repressing crime, he deemed it necessary to 
enforce the most rigorous sentence which the law allow- 
ed, whenever a perjurer was convicted. His addresses 
from the bench were models of judicial eloquence, con- 
ceived in the highest tone of morality, and breathing a 
noble spirit of integi'ity and independence. On one oc- 
casion, two Dutchmen, who had been convicted before 
him of a conspiracy to commit murder, expecting to re- 
ceive sentence of death, had knives concealed on their 
persons for the purpose of assassinating the judge when 
their condemnation was pronounced. Sir James had pre- 
viously determined to sentence them to twelve months' 
imprisonment, and his knowledge of their murderous 
designs made no change in his resolution. But his ad- 
dress to them was a memorable example of dignity and 
self-possession. He said : — " I was employed, prison- 
ers, in considering the mildest judgment which public 
duty would allow me to pronounce on you, w^hen I 
learned from undoubted authority that your thoughts to 
me were not of the same nature. I was credibly, or 
rather certainly informed, that you had admitted into 
your minds the desperate project of desti'oying your 
own lives at the bar where you stand, and of signalizing 
your suicide by the previous destruction of at least one 
of your judges. If that murderous project had been ex- 
ecuted, I should have been the first British magistrate 
who ever stained with his blood the bench on which he 
sat to administer justice ; but I could never have died 
better than in the discharge of my duty. When I ac- 
cepted the office of a minister of justice, I knew that 1 
ought to despise unpopularity and slander, and even 
death itself. Thank God that I do despise them ; and 
I solemnly assure you, that I feel more compassion for 
the gloomy and desperate state of mind which could 
harbor such projects, than resentment for that part of 
them which was directed against myself. I should con- 
sider myself as indelibly disgi-aced, if a thought of your 
projects against me were to influence my judgment." 

During his residence at Bombay, Sir James Mackin- 
tosh founded a literary society at that presidency, which 
has published some valuable volumes of transactions. 



SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH. 235 

His own contributions to the history and statistics of 
India were very valuable, and his example induced many 
to profit by opportunities of study and observation which 
might otherwise have been neglected. He discovered 
the great oriental acquirements of Mr. Rich, the late 
consul at Bagdad, to whom he gave one of his daughters 
in marriage ; and he took every opportunity of bringing 
neglected merit under the notice of the government. 

Ill health having compelled Lady Mackintosh to re- 
turn to England with her children, Sir James, whose 
affections centered in the domestic circle, resigned his 
office to follow her, after a separation of about a year. 
When he reached London, he found his old friend, Mr. 
Percival, at the head of the administi-ation, but as he 
was quite opposed to the political principles of the min- 
istry, he made no effort to obtain office ; and when re- 
turned to Parhament for a Scottish county, took his 
place in the ranks of opposition. 

During the twenty years that Sir James Mackintosh 
sat in the House of Commons, his chief orations were 
directed to obtain a reform of the criminal law, a task 
which he is said to have received as a solemn bequest 
from its great originator. Sir Samuel Romilly. His most 
brilliant speech was delivered on the occasion of Napole- 
on's escape from Elba ; and many passages in his repeated 
attacks on the Alien Bill, and on the system of slavery, 
were deservedly admired. Still, he was regarded rather 
as an accomplished and amiable man, than as an emi- 
nent politician or a great statesman. Though occasion- 
ally eloquent, he was not a ready debater ; and in those 
details of legislation which arise out of the practical bu- 
siness of parliament, he was utterly helpless and incom- 
petent. Want of regularity and steadiness of pursuit 
until the end was obtained, prevented either himself or 
his party from profiting as they might have done by his 
eminent abilities. When Earl Grey came into power. 
Sir James Mackintosh only obtained an inferior place at 
the India House, which he had refused eighteen years 
before, and he seems to have acquiesced in the arrange- 
ment from a consciousness that his negligence and re- 
missness disqualified him for a more important depart- 
ment. 



236 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Towards the close of his life he displayed more lite- 
rary activity than at any earlier period. But his works 
show rather intimations of the powers that he might 
have exerted, than any uniform display of eminent abil- 
ity. His contributions to the Edinburgh Review and to 
the Encyclopaedia Britannica are brilliant essays, which 
persevering industry might have expanded into immortal 
works. His fragmentary histories of England and the 
Revolution are too incomplete to be deemed worthy me- 
morials of his fame ; and yet, it is impossible to read 
them without being convinced that the writer possessed 
every attribute of a great historian except industry and 
perseverance. 

Sir James Mackintosh died on the 30th of May, 1832, 
from the effect of the bone of a fowl which had lodged 
in his throat. His friends and acquaintances sincerely 
lamented one who was perfect in all the relations of pri- 
vate life, and whose conversational powers have rarely 
been surpassed. Of him it can with truth be said, — He 
could, had he pleased it, have been a gi'eat man. 



REV. HENRY MARTYN, B.D. 



Henry Marttn, one of the most eminent of those 
who have devoted their hves to the missionary cause, 
was born at Truro, in the county of Cornwall, February 
11th, 1781. His constitution in boyhood was feeble and 
sickly ; at school he was unable to join in the pastimes 
of his companions, and, Hke Cowper, he suffered much 
ridicule and annoyance from his more robust associates. 
At the age of fifteen he offered himself as a candidate 
for a vacant scholarship in Corpus Christi College, Ox- 
ford, but was unsuccessful, though he passed a veiy 
creditable examination. Two years afterward he went 
to Cambridge, where he gained the highest academical 
honors ; at this university he became intimate with the 
Reverend Mr. Simeon, from whose conversation and 
example he imbibed his first conceptions of the trans- 
cendent excellence of the Christian ministry. In March, 
1802, he became a fellow of St. John's College, and in 
the October of the following year was admitted to holy 
orders. His resolution to devote his life to missionary 
exertions was early formed, but some difficulties im- 
peded him ft-om giving it immediate effect. At length, 
in the summer of 1805, he received an appointment as 
chaplain under the East India Company. The congre- 
gation which had been under his personal care at Cam- 
bridge, agreed to observe the day of his departure from 
England as a solemn fast, and gent him a silver compass 
as a memorial of their unfeigned affection. Martyn's 
diligence in affording religious instruction to the soldiers 
who went out in the same ship with him was conspicu- 



23ii MoJL»EKi\ ijiari«ij pi, ltarcii. 

ous throughout the voyage. " I enti*eated them," said 
he, " even with tears, out of fei-vent love for their souls, 
and I could have poured away my life to have persuaded 
them to return to God." 

These soldiers were sent to conquer the Dutch colony 
of the Cape of Good Hope. This object was effected, 
and immediately after the battle, Martyn landed to offer 
consolation and assistance to the wounded. But he was 
soon summoned to resume his voyage, and his passage 
from the Cape to India was rendered very unpleasant 
by the opposition of many of the passengers to his efforts 
to procure the observance of religious duties. 

On airiving at Calcutta he fixed his residence at Al- 
dien near that city, in the family of the Reverend Da- 
vid Brown. Suttees were not then abolished, and not 
long after his landing he risked his life in an unsuccess- 
ful effort to save a Hindoo widow from being burned on 
her husband's funeral pile. He was soon appointed to 
the chaplaincy of Dinapore, and quitted his friends in 
Calcutta with gi-eat regret ; but his strictness had given 
offence to many in the city, and some even of his cleri- 
cal brethren joined in the attacks which began to be di- 
rected against him. During his voyage up the Ganges 
he continued his study of the native languages, and, 
whenever the boat stopped, he distributed religious 
tracts in the villages along the bank, and sought oppor- 
tunities of preaching Christianity to the inhabitants. On 
reaching Dinapore, which for a considerable time was to 
be his permanent residence, he resolved to establish na- 
tive schools — ^to prepare translations of the Scripture and 
religious ti'acts for distribution — and to attain such readi- 
ness in speaking Hindoostanee as might enable him to 
preach the gospel in that language. The third of these 
objects was the most difficult, because the dialects are 
numerous and various, so that the dialect of one district 
would be almost unintelligible to the people of another. 
He had not much to encourage him in the beginning of 
his ministiy among the Europeans at Dinapore. At 
first he read prayers to the soldiers at the barracks, 
using the long drum as a reading-desk ; and as there 
was no place for the men to sit, he was desired to omit 
the sermon. When better aiTangements were made, 



IIEV. IIENHV MAKTYN. 239 

some of his congregation took offence at his preaching 
extempore, and to conciliate their prejudices he con- 
sented to use written sermons. An alarm was spread 
among the natives that he intended to compel their chil- 
dren to become proselytes, and his schools were imme- 
diately deserted. He did not, however, abandon his 
plans ; he collected the people, and by his temperate 
reasonings, and mild expostulations, so calmed their ap- 
prehensions that the schools were again frequented as 
usual. 

Having completed the ti'anslation of the Book of Com- 
mon Prayer into Hindoostanee, he commenced the per- 
formance of divine worship in the vernacular language 
of India, March 15th, 1807, concluding with an exhort- 
ation from scripture in the same tongue. Thence- 
forward he had two services every Sunday — one in the 
morning for Europeans, and one iti the afternoon for the 
Hindoos. 

In 1808 he completed the Hindoostanee version of 
the New Testament, which was published at Calcutta. 
In the following year he was removed to Cawnpore, 
where he was kindly received by Mrs. Sherwood, a 
lady whose pen has been often and happily employed in 
the cause for which Mr. Martyn lived and labored. Soon 
after he arrived there he preached to a thousand soldiers, 
drawn up in a hollow square, when the heat was so 
great, though the sun had not risen, that many actually 
dropped down, unable to support it. In consequence of 
his remonstrances, a promise was made that a church 
should be erected, but it was not fulfilled until his health 
was too much shaken to profit by its accomplishment. 

The close of the year 1809 was distinguished by Mr. 
Martyn's first public ministration among the heathen. 
He collected a crowd of mendicants, to whom he prom- 
ised alms, and expounded to them the elementary doc- 
trines of Christianity, and he continued this practice at 
stated intervals during the whole period of his residence 
at Cawnpore. At length his labors produced such an 
effect upon his health that he was obliged to return to 
Calcutta, where the physicians declared it necessary 
that he should go back to England. He resolved to re- 
turn through Persia, and on the 22d of May, 1811, he 



2iO MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

landed at Bushire. His journey from this port to Shiraz 
was very painful, in consequence of the extraordinary 
heat of the season and the badness of the roads. But 
he recovered a little when the caravan began to ascend 
the Peergan mountains, though the healthy influence of 
a milder temperature was to some extent counteracted 
by the multitude of musketoes. 

At Shirajz he commenced his Persian version of the 
New Testament, but vs^as frequently interrupted by the 
Mohammedan doctors and students, who sought to em- 
barrass him with controversy. So universal a spirit of 
inquiry had been excited in the city of Shiraz by Mr. 
Maityn's frequent disputations, that the Professor of 
Mohammedan Law found it necessary to publish a vin- 
dication of his creed, to which Mr. Martyn wrote a reply, 
remarkable for its moderation and its discretion, as well 
as for the lucid airangement of its arguments. 

The climate of Persia seemed to agree with his con- 
stitution, and he passed the remainder of the year at 
Shiraz, where he completed his Persian translation of 
the New Testament. Twice he was led to discuss pub- 
licly the great question between Mohammedanism and 
Christianity ; on both occasions he manifested great in- 
trepidity, sustaining the cause of the gospel in the midst 
of a crowd of fanatics, ready at eveiy instant to murder 
him as a blasphemer. His mildness and temper, how- 
ever, allayed their violent passions, and though he made 
no converts, he inspired the people of Shiraz with a 
greater respect for Christian virtues than they had pre- 
viously entertained. 

After a residence of eleven months in the Persian 
capital, Martyn resumed his journey to England ; the 
fatigues of ti'aveling through northern Persia brought on 
a fresh attack of disease, which soon proved fatal. He 
died at Tocat, October 16th, 1812, surrounded by stran- 
gers, but supported through his sufferings by a con- 
sciousness that he had followed the example of his 
blessed master through life, and that in death he would 
reap his exceeding great reward, 

Martyn's abilities and learning would have raised him 
to high rank in the Church or in the University, had he 
remained in England ; but the conversion of the heathen 



REV. HENRY MARTYN. 241 

was to him a far dearer object than worldly honors and 
secular rewards. The impression which his exalted 
piety and extended charity produced on the native pop- 
ulation of India, was deep and lasting ; even Moham- 
medans, ^vhen speaking of him, adopted tlie sentiments 
and almost the words of our scripture, " May we die 
the death of the righteous, and may our latter end be 
like his-" 

16 X 



SIR JOHN MOORE, K.B. 



Though less successful than Nelson or Wellington, 
Sir John Moore has an equal right to the title of a hero — 
a hero in the fine old chivalric sense of the word, which 
required of him who would claim that epithet, to be "as 
tender as he was brave." His life was a career of ar- 
duous and unremitting exertion till its last moment ; and 
his heart was neither soured nor steeled by the vicis- 
situdes and perils he was doomed to encounter, but 
abounded with pure affection and generous feeling. 

He was born at Glasgow, November 15th, 1761 ; his 
father. Dr. Moore, was the author of "Edward," "Zel- 
uco," and some other works which hold a more peima- 
nent place in literature than the generality of romances. 
He was tutor to the young Duke of Hamilton, and took 
his son John with him when he accompanied that noble- 
man on a continental tour. Young Moore was at this 
time only eleven years of age, and the following anec- 
dote, related by his brother, will show that his warlike 
propensities were early developed. 

"Dr. Moore took his son to walk in the gardens of 
the Tuilleries, and while he was looking at some of the 
statues, John strayed aside to gaze at some French boys, 
whose dress diverted him. French children in those 
days were wont to be equipped in full formal suits, like 
little gentlemen ; their hair was powdered, frizzled, and 
curled on both sides, and a bag hung behind ; whereas 
Moore's dress ^vas simple, according to the custom in 
England ; so the contrast to each seemed preposterous. 
The French boys stai-ed» smiled, and chattered to each 



SIR JOHN MOORE. 243 

Other, while Moore, not understanding a word of French, 
could only express his displeasure by gestures. Mutual 
offence was taken, and the parties proceeded to hostili- 
ties ; but as the French boys knew nothing of boxing, 
they were thrown to the ground, one across the other. 
Dr. Moore hearing the outcry, hastened to the scene ; 
he raised up the discomfited, and endeavored to appease 
their rage. Then he reprimanded his son for his un- 
mannerly rudeness, and led him back to the hotel." 

But the young boy gave more honorable proofs of ar- 
dor than pugilistic encounters. In a letter written from 
Geneva during the same journey, Dr. Moore gives the 
following interesting account of his son's proficiency : — 
"Jack is really a pretty youth; his face is of a manly 
beauty, his person is strong, and his figure very elegant ; 
he dances, fences, and rides with uncommon address : 
his mind begins to expand, and he shows a great deal of 
vivacity, tempered with good sense and benevolence ; he 
is of a daring and intrepid temper, and of an obliging 
disposition. He draws tolerably ; he speaks, reads, and 
writes French admirably well ; he has a very good no- 
tion of geography, arithmetic, and the easier parts of 
practical geometry ; he is often operating in the fields, 
and informs me how he would attack Geneva, and shows 
me the weak parts of the fortifications." This tour was 
extended to five years, during which time Moore acquired 
a large stock of general information, the more valuable, 
as the active duties of his subsequent life afforded him 
but few opportunities for study. 

Soon after his return to England, in 1776, he obtained 
the commission of ensign in the 51st foot, and was sent 
to Minorca, where he was trained to the forms of mili- 
tary discipline by the veteran General Murray. He 
panted, however, for more active employment ; he wrote 
home at a lucky moment, for his early friend the Duke 
of Hamilton, having just raised a regiment for immedi- 
ate service, was enabled to promote his former traveling 
companion to the rank of lieutenant, as well as to ap- 
point him paymaster. AVith this regiment, which the 
Duke of Hamilton in consequence of his maiTiage was 
unable to accompany, Moore embarked for Halifax, in 
Nova Scotia, where he was posted during the remain- 



244 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

der of the American war, under the command of Briga- 
dier General Maclean. Here he had few opportunities 
of distinguishing himself in actual service, but he dis- 
played both skiU and courage in an affair with a party 
of the Americans which had landed at Penobscot. We 
shall quote his own account of the matter : — 

" On the 28th, after a sharp cannonade from the ship- 
ping upon the wood, to the great surprise of General 
Maclean and the garrison, the Americans effected a 
landing. I happened to be upon picket that morning, 
under the command of a captain of the 74th regiment, 
who, after giving them one fire, instead of encouraging 
his men — who naturally had been a little startled by the 
cannonade — to do then- dutj', ordered them to retreat, 
leaving me and about twenty men to shift for ourselves. 
After standing for some time I was obliged to retreat to 
the fort, having five or six of my own men killed and 
several wounded : I was lucky to escape untouched." 

Few as were his opportunities, his merits procured 
him promotion to the rank of captain. The peace of 
1783 was followed by the reduction of the regiment to 
which he belonged, and soon after he was placed on 
half-pay he entered Parliament under the auspices of 
the Duke of Hamilton, as member for the Lanark dis- 
trict of burghs. In 1787 we find him again in the army 
as major of the 60th, and aftei"wards of the 51st, his old 
regiment. Soon after he had joined, the regiment was 
ordered on foreign service, and the lieutenant-colonel 
being unwilling to go abroad, Moore purchased his com- 
mission. During the years which passed before the 
regiment sailed for Gibraltar in 1792, he was unwearied 
in disciplining and ti'aining his regiment, which he suc- 
ceeded in raising to the highest state of efficiency in the 
service. 

In 1794 Colonel Moore served in Corsica under Sir 
Gilbert Elliott, and distinguished himself by many in- 
stances of skill and bravely. At the siege of Calvi, 
though severely wounded by the bursting of a shell, he 
entered the Mogello fort at the head of his grenadiers 
in such gallant style, that General Stuart, who had wit- 
nessed his conduct, rushed forward and embraced him 
with enthusiasm. After the subjugation of Corsica he 



SIR JOHN MOORE. 245 

was appointed adjutant-general of the island, but in con- 
sequence of some dispute with Sir Gilbert Elliott, he 
was suddenly dismissed, and ordered to quit Corsica in 
forty-eight hours. He returned to England, and imme- 
diately sought an opportunity of explaining his conduct 
to Mr. Pitt and the Duke of York ; so perfectly were 
they satisfied, that they raised him to the rank of briga- 
dier-general, and sent him to join Sir Ralph Abercromby 
in the West Indies. 

Moore's destination was the Island of St. Lucia, whose 
natural defences had been greatly strengthened by 
French engineers. Here his services were equally hon- 
orable and unremitting ; he displayed such gallantry in 
the attack on La Morne Fortunee, that Abercromby 
eulogized it as having been the admiration of the whole 
army. When the island was subdued, Moore was ap- 
pointed its governor, a harassing office, the hardships of 
which he thus described in a letter to his father : — " I 
have often reproached myself with not writing to you ; 
I know how anxious you all are about me, but since I 
have been left in the island I have never had a moment 
I could call my own, and am at times so worn out, that 
notwithstanding my honors, I am more an object of pity 

than of envy Many of the blacks, previous to the 

surrender, escaped with their arms into the woods and 
interior of this island. For some time they remained 
quiet, but since, encouraged by white people attached 
to the republic, and who were very improperly allowed 
to remain in the island, they began burning houses and 
villages, murdering people of all ages and both sexes, so 
that it became highly necessary, not only from human- 
ity, but for the safety of our posts and the colony, to 
march against them. Tliey were joined by numbers 
of blacks from the plantations ; all of that color are at- 
tached to them. I have not only these brigands to sub- 
due, but the coast to guard from succors which may be 
thrown in, in small boats, from Guadaloupe, and I have 
unfortunately very few officers on whom I can de- 
pend." 

In fact, the officers under Moore were not unnaturally 
weary of very severe service in a most unhealthy cli- 
mate ; the governor wrote to Sir Ralph Abercromby, 
X 2 



246 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

" The army you left in this countiy is almost entirely 
melted away. The officers and men are dispiiited ; 
the former thinking only of getting home, and framing 
excuses, in many instances the most shameful, to bring 
it about." 

Several officers having died, or become disabled by 
sickness, and many others having obtained leave of ab- 
sence to procure a change of air, there remained scarcely 
enough to do the duty of the garrison, and Moore was, 
consequently, obliged to issue orders that no one, except 
in the last necessity, should quit the island. Shortly 
afterward he was himself attacked with the yellow 
fever, and on being told that if he did not go on board 
ship his life would be in danger, he referred the medi- 
cal men who attended him to his own orders, and stated 
that he was resolved at all events to remain at his post ; 
it was not until he had become insensible that the phy- 
sicians were able to effect a removal so necessary to his 
safety. 

Scarcely had he returned to Europe when he was 
sent to aid in suppressing the insurrection which has 
rendered the year 1798 so melancholy in the annals of 
Ireland. In this service Moore's bravery and skill were 
not more conspicuous than his humanity ; he recovered 
Wexford from the insurgents, and saved the town from 
the total ruin with which it was menaced by some of 
the royal ti'oops. He checked, severely, the excesses 
of the soldiers, which in some instances were more to 
be dreaded than those of the rebels, and remonstrated 
with the government for permitting such military licen- 
tiousness, particularly in the yeomanry and militia, as 
w ^re more calculated to provoke than to quell the revolt 
of the unfortunate peasantiy. The boldness and free- 
dom of these remonstrances were neither forgiven nor 
forgotten by Lord Castlereagh, and through his influ- 
ence Moore, who had been promoted to the rank of 
major-general, was removed from Ireland, but his hu- 
mane policy was adopted by the new lord-lieutenant, 
the Marquis Cornwallis. 

Moore next took a part in the disastrous campaign of 
1799 in Holland, whence he returned severely wounded 
in the face and thigh. The letter in which Sir Ralph 



SIR JOHN MOORE. 247 

Abercromby communicated this intelligence to Dr. 
Moore, must not be omitted. 

" Egmond-on-the-Sea, Oct. 4th. 
" My dear Sir, — Although your son is wounded in 
the thigh and in the cheek, I can assure you that he is 
in no sort of danger ; both wounds are slight. The 
public and myself are the greatest sufferers by these ac- 
cidents. The general is a hero, with more sense than 
many others of that description. In that, he is an or- 
nament to his family and to his profession. I hope Mrs. 
Moore and his sister will be easy on his account, and 
that you are proud of such a son." 

* * * 

Before he was recovered of his wounds, he was ap- 
pointed colonel of the 52d regiment, and in May, 1800, 
sailed on a new expedition, under the command of his 
friend Abercromby, which, after some changes and vi- 
cissitudes, was ultimately destined to drive the French 
from Egypt. 

The French attacked the first division of the ti-oops 
that landed with great fury and effect : but Moore, fol- 
lowing with the resei-ve, i-ushed up an eminence on 
which the French were posted, and drove them from 
their position at the point of the bayonet. Napoleon, 
when he heard of this exploit, commended it as a mas- 
ter-piece of generalship, and it was deservedly eulogized 
in the British army. At the battle of Aboukir, when 
the gallant Abercromby closed his career, Moore's 
valor was equally conspicuous ; though severely wounded 
in the leg, he refused to quit the field until the defeat of 
the enemy was announced. 

In 1801, he returned home, just in time to receive his 
father's last blessing, and upon his death he generously 
pressed upon his mother an additional annuity from him- 
self, but she, with similar generosity, would only accept 
one-half. During the short suspension of hostilities, by 
the peace of Amiens, he was placed on the home-staff', 
and he employed himself in drilling and disciplining the 
regiments under his command, rendering his own a 
pattern corps. He was thus engaged when war was 
renewed, and England was menaced with invasion. Mr. 



248 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Pitt, who held the office of Warden of the Cinque 
Ports, was much interested in the arrangements made 
for defending the coast : we must make room for one 
anecdote' of the interviews between the minister and the 
general. — •' Mr. Pitt frequently rode over to Shorecliff, 
where Moore was encamped, who had the pleasure of 
explaining to this gi'eat statesman all his plans. On one 
of those occasions Mr. Pitt said to him, ' Well, Moore, 
as on the veiy first alarm of the enemy's coming, I 
shall march to aid you with my Cinque Ports regiments, 
you have not told me where you will place us ?' — ' Do 
you see that hill V said Moore ; ' you and yours shall be 
drawn up on it, where you will make a most formidable 
appearance to the enemy, while I with the soldiers shall 
be fighting on the beach.' Mr. Pitt was much amused 
by his reply." 

In September, 1804, George III. confeired the order 
of the Bath on the gallant general, and he was subse- 
quently sent to Sicily, where his time was wasted in 
petty intrigues and fruitless expeditions. Equally un- 
satisfactory was his mission to Sweden. He was sent 
at the head of ten thousand men to aid King Gustavus ; 
but that monarch, whose sanity was very doubtful, 
placed the English general under arrest, and compelled 
him to return with his troops to England. But the 
respite he enjoyed was brief; he was ordered to the 
Peninsula. The circumstances under which he was 
sent to this brief, brilliant, and disastrous stage of his 
career were very mortifying. Lord Castlereagh, re- 
membering their diflt'erences in Ireland, placed him sub- 
ordinate to two incapable generals. Sir Hew Dalrymple 
and Sir Harry Burrard, the former of whom had never 
commanded an army in the field. Before leaving 
England, Sir .1. Moore had an intei-view with Lord 
Castlereagh, of which the following authentic account 
has been presei-ved. The general spoke as follows : 
•'My lord, a postchaise is at my door, and upon leaving 
this, I shall proceed to Portsmouth to join the troops. 
It may, perhaps, be my lot never to see your lordship 
again ; I therefore think it right to express to you my 
feelings of the unhandsome treatment I have received." 
Lord Castlereagh broke in, saying, " I am not sensible 



SIR JOHN MOORE. 249 

of what treatment you allude to." Sir John continued 
to this effect : — " Since my arrival from the Downs, if 
1 had been an ensign, I could hardly have been treated 
with less ceremony. It is only by inference that I 
know how I am to be employed ; for your lordship has 
never told me in plain terms, that I am to serve in an 
army under Sir Hew Dahymple. And coming from a 
chief command, if it was intended to employ me in an 
inferior capacity, I might expect that something explan- 
atory should be said. You have told me that my con- 
duct in Sweden was approved of, but from your conduct 
I should have concluded the reverse. His majesty's 
ministers have a right to employ what officers they 
please ; and had they, on this occasion, given the com- 
mand to the youngest general in the army, I should 
neither have felt nor expressed that the least injury was 
done to me. But I have a right, in common with all 
officers who have served zealously, to be treated with 
attention, and when employment is offered, that some 
regard should be paid to my former services." 

Lord Castlereagh made some shuffling excuse, and 
the interview terminated ; but Sir John Moore had 
scarcely reached Portugal, when his two superiors gave 
such signal proofs of their incapacity, that they were 
recalled, in obedience to the indignant voice of the na- 
tion, and he was gratified with the chief command of 
the army. On the 4th of October, 1808, he received 
orders to advance, with 20,000 men at his disposal, and 
cooperate with the Spanish armies in expelhng the 
French from the Peninsula. Badly supplied with 
money and munitions of war, with few guides and a 
defective staff, Moore commenced his advance, and on 
tlie ilth of November entered Spain. He found 
neither allies nor supphes. Mr. Hookham Frere, the 
English ambassador at Madrid, was an indolent, con- 
ceited pedant, who dozed away his life in literary 
ti'iffing : the promises of the Spaniai'ds were quite 
enough for him ; he deemed it superfluous trouble to 
make any inquiry about their performance. So sadly 
were arrangements neglected, that when Sir David 
Baird reached Corunna with a reinforcement of ten 
thousand men, fourteen days elapsed before he could 



250 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

obtain permission to land. As Sir J. Moore advanced, 
he felt more and more keenly the utter worthlessness 
of the allies with whom he had to cooperate. The 
civil and military authorities of Spain were hostile to 
each other. The generals, with the exception of the 
Marquis Romana, were arrogant, incompetent, and ob- 
stinate ; while the soldiers were destitute of equip- 
ments, discipline, and confidence : but one and all were 
loud boasters, and their vaunts passed for solemn ti'uths 
with Mr. Hookham Frere. 

While the English were advancing, the disorganized 
Spanish armies were routed by the French in three 
great battles, which their generals hazarded imprudent- 
ly and fought badly, Bonaparte having ti-iumphed over 
Austria, had brought a large army of veteran troops to 
complete the conquest of Spain, and, advancing without 
any opposition, made himself master of Madrid. At 
this crisis Frere was so completely misled by false in- 
formation, that he wrote to Mooi-e to advance and cover 
Madrid, which the citizens had resolved to defend to the 
last extremity ! Taunted by Frere, who ventured to 
hint that the general was deficient in zeal and ability, 
Moore advanced to attack Marshal Soult at Saldanha ; 
but just as he was preparing to engage, he learned that 
Soult had received strong reinforcements, and that Na- 
poleon had advanced from Madrid to get in the rear of 
the British troops. He had now no means of saving his 
army except a speedy retreat, which he at once com- 
menced, being closely pursued by the enemy. Lord 
Paget gave the French a severe check at Sahagun, but 
this only afforded a temporary respite to the British. A 
portion of Romana's flying army crossed the line of re- 
ti-eat at Astorga, plundered the stores which Moore had 
collected for his soldiers, and communicated to the Brit- 
ish the diseases which had decimated their own ranks. 
From this time the condition of the reti'eating army be- 
came truly deplorable. Their line of march lay through 
a desolate country ; the winter had set in with much 
severity ; rain, sleet, and snow rendered the roads almost 
impassable; the supplies of provision were miserably 
scanty ; the treasure collected to pay the soldiers was 
abandoned for want of means of ti-ansport : the baggage 



SIR JOHN MOORE. 



251 



of the men was destroyed ; their clothes hung in rags ; 
their feet were blistered by long marches, and cut for 
want of shoes ; the peasants refused to give any assist- 
ance to their allies ; and, to complete the distress, the 
troops became insubordinate, and committed such ex- 
cesses that it was necessary on several occasions to have 
recourse to capital punishment. Still, there never was 
a time when the indomitable courage of the British sol- 
dier was more signally displayed. Though retreating in 
such disorder, they repulsed the advanced guards of the 
French in every encounter. Moore himself, being con- 
stantly with the rear of his troops, was invariably present 
whenever a shot was fired or the French appeared m 
sight. 

At length the British reached Corunna, but the fleet 
of transports, in which the army might have been quickly 
and safely embarked, was delayed by contrary winds at 
Vigo. This untoward event caused a loss of three days, 
and it became evident that the embarkation could not be 
effected without a battle. On the 14th of January, the 
cavalry, the sick, and the greater part of the artillery, 
were sent on board the transports ; the 15th passed in 
smart skirmishes at the outposts, but in the afternoon of 
the 16th Soult's advance brought on a general engage- 
ment. The battle was obstinate and bloody, but just as 
the tide of success had turned in favor of the English, 
Moore was mortally wounded by a cannon-shot, and fell 
to the ground. He was carried into Corunna by some 
of the weeping soldiers, but he frequently compelled his 
bearers to stop that he might observe the progress of the 
battle. His brother gives the following account of the 
last moments of the hero. " He was placed on a mat- 
trass on the floor, and supported by Anderson, who had 
saved his hfe at St. Lucia ; and some of the gentlemen 
of his staff came into his room by turns. He asked each 
as they entered if the French were beaten, and was an- 
swered affirmatively. They stood around ; the pain of 
his wound became excessive, and deadly paleness over- 
spread his fine features ; yet, with unsubdued fortitude, 
he said at intervals, ' Anderson, you know that I have 
always wished to die this way. I hope the people ol 
England will be satisfied. I hope my country will do 



252 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

me justice. Anderson, you will see ray friends as soon 
as you can. Tell them everything — say to my moth- 
er ' Here his voice faltered, he became exces- 
sively agitated, and not being able to proceed, changed 
the subject. 

"'Hope — Hope* — I have much to say to him, but 
cannot get it out. Are Colonel Grahamf and all my 
aides-de-camp safe V (At this question, Anderson, who 
knew the warm regard of the general toward the offi- 
cers of his staff, made a private sign not to mention that 
Captain Burrard was mortally wounded.) He then con- 
tinued, ' I have made my will and remembered my ser- 
vants. Colborne has my will and all my papers.' As 
he spoke these words. Major Colborne, his military 
secretaiy, entered the room ; he addressed him with 
his wonted kindness, then turning to Anderson said, 
' Remember you go to Willoughby Gordon, and tell him 
it is my request, and that I expect he will give a lieu- 
tenant-colonelcy to Major Colborne : he has been long 
with me — and I know him to be most worthy of it.' 

"He then asked the major, who had come the last 
from the field, ' Have the French been beaten ?' He 
assured him they had on every point. ' It is a great 
satisfaction,' he said, ' for me to know that we have 
beaten the French. Is PagetJ in the room V On 
being told he was not, he resumed, ' Remember me to 
him, he is a fine fellow.' Though visibly sinking, he 
then said, ' I feel myself so sti-ong — I fear I shall be long 
dying — it's great pain — everything Francois§ says is 
right — I have great confidence in him.' He thanked 
the surgeons for their attendance. Then seeing Cap- 
tains Percy and Stanhope, two of his aides-de-camp, 
enter, he spoke to them kindly, and repeated to them 
the question, ' Are all my aides-de-camp safe ?' and was 
pleased on being told they were. 

" After a pause. Stanhope caught his eye, and he said 
to him, ' Stanhope, remember me to your sister.' He 

* Sir John Hope, who succeeded to the command, afterward 
Earl of Hopetoun. 

t Of Balgowan, afterward Lord Lynedoch. 
t The present Marquis of Anglesea. 
"^ One of the surgeons in attendance. 



SIR JOHN MOORE. 253 

then became silent, — Death, undreaded, approached, 
and the spirit departed, leaving the bleeding body an ob- 
lation offered up to his country. The striking circum- 
stances of Sir John Moore's burial have been described 
by the Rev. Charles Wolfe, in the most picturesque 
lyric which exists in our language. As this exquisite 
poem has often been incorrectly printed, we transcribe 
it from a lithograph copy of the lamented author's auto- 
graph now before us : — 

" Not a drum was heard, not a funeral riote 
As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; 
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our hero we buried 

We buried him darkly— at dead of night, 

The sods with our bayonets turning ; 
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, 

And the lantern dimly burning. 

No useless coffin inclosed his breast, 
Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; 

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
With his martial cloak around him. 

Few and short were the prayers we said, 

And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 
But we stedfastly gazed on the face of the dead. 

And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow, 
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head. 

And we far away on the billow ! 

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — 
But little he'll reck if they let him sleep on 

In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 

But half of our heavy task was done. 
When the clock struck the hour for retiring, 

And we heard the distant and random gun 
That the foe was sullenly firing. 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down 
From the field of his fame fresh and gory : 

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, 
But we left him alone with his glory !" 

Within a fortnight after Sir John Moore's death, a 
high eulogium was passed on his conduct in general 
Y 



254 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

orders to the army. A monument was erected to his 
memory in St. Paul's, and another in Glasgow. On 
the spot where he fell a commemoration stone was 
placed by Soult, to testify the high respect with which 
he was regarded by his enemies, and a pillar was after- 
ward raised at Elvina (a village near Corunna) accord- 
ing to the terms of its inscription, " By the gratitude of 
Spain to the glory of the English Moore and his valiant 
countiymen, in memory of the action of the sixteenth of 
January, 1809." 



LORD NELSON. 



Horatio Nelson, the greatest of our naval heroes, 
was born September 29th, 1758, in Burnham Thorpe, 
a village in the county of Norfolk, of which his father 
was rector. Few anecdotes of his earlier years have 
been preserved : he appears to have been a weak sickly 
boy, but to have given early indications of a resolute 
mind and daring spirit. When about twelve years of 
age, having heard that his maternal uncle had been 
appointed to the command of a ship of war, he applied 
to his father to take this opportunity of sending him to 
sea, and as Mr. Nelson's circumstances were rather 
straitened, he complied with his request. Captain 
Suckling showed gi-eat anxiety to train his nephew to a 
practical knowledge of naval affairs ; when appointed to 
the command of the guard-ship in the Thames, he sent 
Nelson in a merchant-vessel to the West Indies, and 
after his return, he made him practice some of the 
duties of a pilot, by which he acquired a confidence 
among rocks and sands that subsequently proved of 
great value in his profession. 

Nelson had not been many months on board his 
uncle's ship, when his passion for adventure was ex- 
cited by hearing that a voyage of discoveiy was about to 
be undertaken toward the North Pole. The two ships 
sent on this enterprise were commanded by the Hon. 
Captain Phipps ; they were fitted out with great care,, 
and none but picked men were received into the crews. 
Through his uncle's interest Nelson was permitted to 
join this expedition as coxswain to Captain Letwidge, 



256 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

the second in command. They sailed from the Nore 
on the 4th of Jmie, 1773, and at the close of the follow- 
ing month had reached a higher degi*ee of northern 
latitude than had been attained by any former naviga- 
tors. Here they were beset with the ice which threat- 
ened to hold them fast, and, before the vessels were 
extricated, Nelson exposed himself to imminent danger 
by quitting thje ship to go in pursuit of a bear ; his 
excuse was that he wanted to procure the skin for his 
father. The commanders of the expedition were pre- 
paring to quit their ships and take to the boats, when a 
change of wind enabled them to force the ships through, 
and after a brief delay they returned to England. Nelson 
next sailed for the East Indies, but the climate proving 
too injurious to his health he came home, and soon after 
passed his examination as lieutenant with gi-eat credit. 
He received the commission of second lieutenant on 
board the Lowestoffe, commanded by Captain Locker, 
destined for sei-vice in the West Indies. Here his 
bravery and activity were so eminently displayed, par- 
ticularly in boarding an American prize in a heavy sea, 
that the captain warmly recommended him to Sir Peter 
Parker, the admiral of the station, by whom he was 
soon promoted to the command of a vessel of his own. 
Early in the year 1780 he was sent to convoy an expe- 
dition sent against the Spanish colonies in the Isthmus 
of Panama. The climate and the fatigue which the 
operations involved, desti'oyed the greater part of the 
military and naval forces ; Nelson was obliged to aban- 
don the command of a new ship to which he had 
been appointed, and return to recruit his constitution in 
England. On his recoveiy he was appointed to the 
Albemarle, and sailed to the Baltic, where he obtained 
a knowledge of the Danish coast, which proved of 
the greatest service many years afterwai'd. He next 
was ordered to Quebec, thence to New York, and at 
length to the West Indies, where he soon acquired the 
confidence of the admiral. Lord Hood, by whom he 
was introduced to Prince William Henry (the late 
William IV.), then learning the naval profession as a 
midshipman. A friendship was soon formed between 
Nelson and the prince, which death alone inten-upted. 



LORD NELSON. 257 

Ou the restoration of peace in 1783, Nelson's sliip 
was paid off, and finding his finances low he removed 
for a short time to France. He was soon, however, 
employed again, being sent in the Boreas to the West 
India station. Finding that the provisions of the Navi- 
gation Act respecting the trade of foreigners with 
British colonies, were violated by the Americans, he 
complained to the local authorities, and finding them 
unwilling to act, he seized several vessels, and had 
them condemned in the Court of Admiralty. The 
favorers of the contraband trade resented this enforce- 
ment of law, and Nelson was much harassed by their 
threats of prosecution. The English government, how- 
ever, sanctioned his conduct, and ordered that he should 
be defended at the expense of the crown. Just about 
this time he was married to Mrs. Nisbit, the widow of 
a physician, who had a son by her first husband, about 
three years old ; it was through the playfulness of the 
child that Nelson became acquainted with the mother. 
Having discovered that some gross frauds were perpe- 
trated on the government, Nelson denounced the pecu- 
lators, but they possessed such powerful interest as to 
be able to stifle inquiry, and even to raise gi-eat preju- 
dices against Nelson at the board of admiralty. On his 
return to England he was rather coldly received, by 
which he was so offended that he had some intention 
of quitting the service ; his wounded feelings were 
soothed by Lord Howe, and at the commencement of 
the revolutionary Avar he was appointed to the command 
of the Agamemnon, a ship of 64 guns. 

Nelson was sent to the Mediterranean just at the 
time that the inhabitants of Toulon, wearied by the 
violence of their own government, had surrendered their 
city to the British admiral ; he was sent to Naples to 
obtain the aid of Neapolitan troops in garrisoning the 
new acquisition, and here he laid the foundation of his 
future unhappiness. The envoy, Sir William Ham- 
ilton, actively exerted himself to procure the desired 
troops ; he introduced Nelson to Lady Hamilton, the 
subsequent source of his domestic miseiy, and to the 
Neapolitan court, from which flowed the only dark 
stain that rests on his character. Shortly afterward he 
17 y2 



258 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCll. 

was sent to cooperate with General Paoli and the 
Anti-Gallican party in expelling the French from Cor- 
sica. Bastia was taken chiefly by Nelson's exertions, 
and at the siege of Calvi, where he greatly exerted 
himself, he lost an eye ; but his services w^ere neither 
noticed nor requited. Admiral Hotham having received 
information that a French fleet was at sea, sailed in 
pursuit. Nelson in the Agamemnon attacked the Ca- 
Ira, which had lost her mast ; not being supported, and 
the rest of the French fleet preparing to assist their 
consort, he was obliged to desist, but on the following 
morning, the Ca-Ira and the Censeur, which had her 
in tow, were cut off* from the French fleet, and captured. 
Nelson in vain urged the admiral to follow up his suc- 
cess, but Hotham was more cautious than enterprising, 
and it must be confessed that the neglect of the English 
admiralty had left his fleet in a condition which might 
excuse his reluctance to encounter any gj-eat hazard. 

Nelson was next sent to cooperate with the Austrian 
army in driving the French from the north of Italy. 
This was a most disagi-eeable service. Our allies had 
neither zeal for the war, nor confidence in themselves ; 
the Italians were secretly disposed to favor the French, 
and Nelson's superiors in command would neithei- act 
energetically themselves, nor give him sufficient force to 
carry his bold plans into execution. At length, the pro- 
gress of tlie French on land rendered the presence of a 
naval force unnecessary ; the Agamemnon was obliged 
to sail to Leghorn to refit, after which she rejoined the 
fleet, which had been recently placed under the able 
and efficient command of Sir John Jervis. He was 
soon sent on the unpleasant service of superintending 
the evacuation of Corsica, which the English govern- 
ment had resolved to abandon. AVhile thus engaged, 
he was promoted to the rank of commodore, and hoisted 
his broad pendant on board the Minerve frigate. Oft* 
the coast of Corsica he captured a Spanish frigate ; but 
an entire squadron of the enemy appearing, he was 
obliged to abandon his prize, and the Minerve herself 
could hardly have escaped but for the anxiety of the 
Spaniards to recover their own ship. 

After the abandonment of Corsica, the English fleet 



LORD NELSON. 259 

was witlidrawn from the Mediterranean to protect the 
coasts of Portugal ; Nelson remained behind to escort a 
convoy to Gibraltar, and on his way to join the admiral, 
after having performed this service, he passed the Spanish 
fleet, and brought the first intelligence of their appear- 
ance to Sir John Jervis, who was cruising off Cape St. 
Vincent. The admiral directed Nelson to shift his broad 
pendant into the Captain, a seventy-four, and made the 
signal to prepare for action, and to keep together during 
the night. When the morning of the 14th of February, 
1797, dawned, the English fleet of fifteen sail of the Mne 
formed a compact little body, while the Spanish force, 
amounting to twenty-seven sail, was dispersed and in 
confusion. This aftbrded Sir J. Jervis an opportunity 
of cutting oflt' nine ships from the main body, which he 
resolved to attack, though still superior in number of 
ships and weight of metal. The admiral made the sig- 
nal to tack in succession ; but Nelson, perceiving that 
the Spaniards were bearing up to join their separated 
ships, disobeyed the signal, and ordered his vessel to be 
wore. This at once brought him into action with the 
Santissima Trinidad, one hundred and thirty-six ; the 
San Josef, one hundred and twelve ; the Salvador del 
Mundo, one hundred and twelve ; the San Nicholas, 
eighty ; and three seventy -fours. Trowbridge, in the 
Culloden, immediately joined, and the two English ships 
maintained the unequal contest for nearly an hour. 
When others came up. Nelson confined himself to the 
San Josef and the San Nicholas, the latter of which he 
boarded, and took with little difficulty. He then pre- 
I)ared to board the San Josef from the ship just cap- 
tured ; but an officer hastened to announce that she had 
surrendered, and Nelson had only to receive the swords 
from her officers as signs of their submission. The 
Spanish fleet, though still superior in number, did not 
venture to renew the engagement, and the English 
were permitted tranquilly to secure their prizes. 

For this victory. Sir J. Jervis was created Earl St. 
Vincent; and Nelson, who had been advanced to the 
rank of rear-admiral before the news of the action 
reached England, received the Order of the Bath. The 
disproportion of these rewards is obvious, and, without 



260 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

detracting from the well-deserved fame of Earl St. Vin- 
cent, we must feel that he had but a small share in the 
victory from which he derived his title. 

Sir Horatio Nelson, having hoisted his flag on board 
the Theseus, was employed in blockading the inner 
squadron in the Bay of Cadiz. While making a night 
attack on the Spanish gun-boats, his barge, in which 
there were only ten men, the admiral, Captain Free- 
mantle, and the coxswain, was attacked by an armed 
launch, carrying thirty-six men. A desperate battle 
ensued, and notwithstanding the great disparity of num- 
bers, the launch was taken. Nelson next planned an 
attack on Santa Cruz, in the island of Teneriffe ; he did 
not obtain all the forces he required, and his best pro- 
jects were baffled by unfavorable winds and tides ; still 
he persevered in attacking the town with boats ; at the 
moment of landing, he was shot thi-ough the right el- 
bow, and was carried back to his ship ; some of the boats 
missed the mole, and were destroyed by the surf; those 
who effected a landing were not sufficiently numerous 
for the enterprise. An agi-eement was concluded with 
the Spanish governor, by which the English were per- 
mitted to embark unmolested, on condition of sparing the 
town. It must be mentioned, to the honor of the Span- 
iards, that so soon as the terms of agi-eement were con- 
cluded, they paid every possible attention to the wound- 
ed, and sent supplies of provision to the exhausted 
sailors. 

The amputation of his right arm, which was perform- 
ed in a slovenly manner, caused Nelson to endure great 
physical suffering, which was aggi-avated by his anxiety 
lest the loss should disqualify him for sei-vice. He re- 
turned to England, where he remained about a year; 
but early in 1798 he hoisted his flag on board the Van- 
guard, and was ordered to rejoin Earl St. Vincent. 

The attention of Europe was now directed to an ar- 
mament, which was fitting out under Napoleon at Tou- 
lon. Nelson was sent with a large squadron to watch 
its movements ; but a severe gale dispersed his ships- 
and before the damages which they had sustained could 
be repaired, the French had sailed, and had achieved 
the conquest of Malta. Nelson, having received rein- 



4 
LORD NELSON. 261 

forcements, sailed in pursuit ; he found that they had 
quitted Malta, and rightly conjecturing that Egypt was 
their destination, he bore up for Alexandria. The 
French steered an angular, the Enghsh a direct course ; 
the latter reached Alexandria first, and found no signs 
of the enemy, though it subsequently appeared that the 
two fleets had crossed each other during the voyage. 
Nelson returned to Sicily, where his fleet victualed and 
watered ; he then once more sought the Levant, and at 
length had the satisfoction to discover the French fleet 
anchored in Aboukir Bay. 

Admiral Brueys, the French commander, though 
superior in strength, had no wish to hazard an engage- 
ment. He moored his ships in the roadstead, as close 
to a shoal as he deemed consistent with safety, the 
bank protecting one flank, and the curve formed by the 
fleet preventing his being turned on the other. Nelson 
immediately perceived that where there wms room for a 
hostile ship to swing, there must be room for a British 
ship to anchor, and he, therefore, resolved to double on 
the enemy's ships, trusting to the skilfulness of the 
pilots to keep clear of the shoal. The battle began 
about half-past six in the evening; night closed in at 
seven, and there was no other light than the flashes of 
the cannon from the contending fleets. Nelson re- 
ceived a wound in the forehead, which was at first be- 
Ueved to be mortal, but it proved of trifling consequence, 
and he was able to perceive that his brilliant plan of 
action had been crowned with complete success. Un- 
fortunately, the CuUoden, commanded by Trowbridge, 
had grounded on the shoal, and bore no part in the 
action ; but this accident saved the ships behind from 
the danger of grounding in a far more dangerous part 
of the same bank. 

One of the most fearful incidents of naval war dis- 
tinguished this battle ; L'Orient, the vessel that bore 
the French admiral's flag, took fire a little after nine 
o'clock, and having been newly painted, burned with 
intense fury. So great was the light produced by the 
conflagration, that the position of both fleets could be 
clearly seen, and even the flags were distinguishable ; 
at twelve she exploded, with a shock which was 



262 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

severely felt at the very bottom of every vessel. A 
silence, not less awful, followed this fearful event ; not 
more than seventy of the crew were saved, and these 
were rescued from destruction by the heroism of the 
British sailors. The battle continued all night; at day- 
break the two rear ships of the enemy's line, which 
had not been engaged, alone had their colors flying. 
They cut their cables, and escaped, in company with 
two frigates, the British fleet being too severely crippled 
for eliective pursuit. Still, seldom was a more com- 
plete victory obtained ; the objects of Napoleon's expe- 
dition to Egj^pt were frustrated by this single battle. 

Honors now flowed in upon him from every side ; he 
was created a peer, granted honorable armorial bear- 
ings, and endowed with a pension ; the East India 
Company voted him a grant of ten thousand pounds ; 
the Turkish Company presented him with a service of 
plate ; the corporation of the City of London ordered a 
sword to be prepared for him and each of his captains. 
Foreign powers joined in these tributes of respect ; the 
sultan sent him a pelisse of sables, and a diamond 
aigi'ette, taken from the i-oyal turban ; the Emperor of 
.Russia presented his portrait in diamonds, with an 
autograph letter of congratulation ; the King of Sar- 
dinia sent a gold box, set with diamonds ; and their 
majesties of Naples expressed the most earnest anxiety 
to ofter their felicitations in person. The flattery of the 
Neapolitan court was unfortunately the most welcome 
of all these congratulations, and he hastened from the 
scene of his glory to inhale the incense of fulsome 
adulation, to which he was invited. 

Enslaved by the charms of Lady Hamilton, and in- 
duced by her persuasions to sacrifice everything to the 
gratification of the Neapolitan queen, Nelson remained 
on the coast of Naples, neglecting many opportunities 
of reaping the fruits of his gi-eat victoiy at the Nile. 
"When there appeared a favorable chance of expelling 
the French from the south of Italy, the Neapolitan 
court seemed less anxious for the recovery of its do- 
minions, than for sating its sanguinary vengeance on 
those who had been driven into the arms of revolution 
by its own weakness and desertion. In the unhappy 



LORD NELSOxX. 263 

State of Nelson's mind, he became the ready instrmnent 
of the gratification of these g\ul\y passions. When the 
castles of Uovo and Nuovo capitulated, Nelson, who 
arrived six-and-thirty hours alter the articles had been 
signed, at once annulled the treaty, and insisted that 
the garrisons should be delivered over to the vengeance 
of thg Sicilian court. This was followed by the judicial 
murder of Prince Francesco Carraccioli ; this unfortu- 
nate nobleman was brought on board the admiral's 
vessel at nine in the morning, was put on trial at ten, 
and executed at five the same evening. Lady Hamilton, 
who was with Nelson at the time, was actually a wit- 
ness of the execution ! It is impossible to excuse this 
crime ; it does not even admit of palliation. Nelson 
soon after quitted the Mediterranean, returning home 
through Germany to England ; he was everywhere re- 
oieived with the highest honors, but private uneasiness 
neutralized the plea&ure derived from public approba- 
tion; his infatuated attachment to Lady Hamilton led 
him to separate from Lady Nelson. Some of his last 
words to her were — " I call God to witness there is 
nothing in you or your conduct that I wish otherwise." 

A confederacy had been formed by the courts of 
Russia, Sweden, and Denmark, hostile to the maritime 
supremacy of England; and the Addington ministry, 
which then governed England, sent a fleet to the Baltic 
to maintain our naval rights. Sir Hyde Parker held 
the chief command, and Nelson was second in rank. 
It has been asserted that the vacillation and weakness 
which Nelson had shown in Naples, were the reasons 
wily he was not entrusted with the entire direction of 
an expedition, in which the caution of a diplomatist was 
as necessary to success as the courage of a hero. 

When the fleet reached the Cattegat, some valuable 
time Avas wasted in negotiations, and when they were 
at an end several days were lost in deciding upon a plan 
of action. It was at length resolved to force the pas- 
sage of the Sound, and attack the Danish fleet in sight 
of their capit-al. Nelson volunteered to eflect this ser- 
vice, for which purpose Sir Hyde Parker gave him 
twelve line-of-battle ships, and the whole of the smaller 
craft. The passage of the EngUsh fleet through the 



264 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Sound was effected without any loss or difficulty ; the 
Swedes offering no resistance, the ships kept close to 
the Swedish shore, and thus were beyond the range of 
the Danish batteries. When the fleet came in sight of 
Copenhagen, it was found that the Danes had made 
most formidable arrangements for defence ; their line 
consisted of nineteen gi-eat ships and floating batteries, 
flanked by the crown batteries, artificial islands of im- 
mense strength constructed at the entrance of the har- 
bor. The English had to pass a shoal, before they 
could close with the enemy ; but, through the ignorance 
of the pilots, one of our ships of war gi-ounded where 
she was wholly useless, and two others in a situation 
where they could not render half the service required 
of them. The gun-brigs and mortar-vessels were pre- 
vented, by baffling currents, from reaching their ap- 
pointed stations, and the squadron of frigates which, 
under Captain Riou, attacked the crown batteries, was 
inadequate to the task. 

The action began five minutes after ten in the morn- 
ing of April 2d, 1801. The fire of more than a thou- 
sand guns was opened on the British fleet; and Sir 
Hyde Parker, who was aware of the accidents which 
had deprived Nelson of a large part of his force, made 
a signal to discontinue the action. Nelson, without a 
moment's hesitation, resolved to disobey, and the other 
ships, looking only to him, continued the desperate 
engagement. Fortunately, Sir Hyde's signal was seen 
and obeyed by Riou's little squadron of frigates, which 
was thus saved from destruction ; but their gallant com- 
mander was unfortunately slain. The battle continued 
to rage with great fury until past one o'clock, when the 
fire of the Danes gi-adually slackened, and at two was 
nearly silenced along their whole hue. But it was diffi- 
cult to take possession of the ships that had struck, and 
their hapless crews were mowed down by the fire from 
the Danish ships and batteries, and by the fire of the 
English in return. To put an end to this useless 
slaughter, Nelson resolved to appeal to the crown 
prince, to whom he wrote the following letter : — 
" Vice-admiral Lord Nelson has been commanded to 
spare Denmark, when she no longer resists. The line 



LORD NELSON. 265 

of defence which covered her shores has struck to the 
British flag ; but if the firing is continued on the part of 
Denmark, he must set on fire all the prizes that he has 
taken, without having the power of saving the men who 
have so nobly defended them. The brave Danes are 
the brothers, and should never be the enemies, ot the 
English." This letter, sealed with due formality, was 
sent ashore. A ti-uce was concluded; and while the 
Danes were conveying their wounded ashore, he 
hastened to remove his vessels from the perilous situa- 
tion they occupied. This was a work of great diffi- 
culty, and, but for the ti-uce, would have been attended 
with considerable loss. The prolongation of the truce 
afforded an opportunity for bringing off" the prizes ; and 
the sight of their ships, thus towed away, was a source 
of greater mortification to the Danes than their pre- 
vious defeat and immense losses. Some delay occurred 
in concluding an armistice, and at one time there was 
reason to fear that hostilities would be renewed ; but 
finally, it was agreed that hostilities should cease for 
fourteen weeks,— thus giving the English time to turn 
their attention to Russia, the leading member ot the 
Northern confederacy. , t, • 

Nelson was anxious to strike a blow at the Russian 
fleet, and to renew in Revel the scene just acted at Co- 
penhagen ; but he found it impossible to infuse any por- 
tion of his own energy or activity. Before, however, 
any decisive resolutions could be termed, the Northern 
confederacy was dissolved by the death of the Emperor 
Paul; and Nelson, having completed the pacification ot 
the Baltic, returned to England. He had not been long 
at home when he was appointed to superintend the 
measures taken to prevent the invasion with which Na- 
poleon then menaced England. He resolved upon at- 
tacking the flotilla assembled in the mouth of Boulogne 
harbor, but owing to the darkness and uncertainty ot 
the tides in the Channel, the divisions of boats destined 
for this service were separated, and the objects ot the 
expedition were frustrated. 

On the conclusion of the peace of Amiens, Nelson re- 
tired to Merton, in Surrey, where he had purchased a 
house and estate, intending to pass his days there in the 
Z 



266 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

society of Sir William and Lady Hamilton. His un- 
happy attachment still troubled his peace of mind, and 
involved him in pecuniary difficulties ; while at the same 
time he was much hurt by what he deemed instances 
of coldness and neglect on the part of the government. 

When the war was renewed in 1803, Nelson was 
appointed to the command of the Mediterranean fleet. 
He at once took up his station off Toulon, where he 
kept the French blockaded for fourteen months. At 
length war was declared against France and Spain. 
The Toulon fleet, relying on Spanish support, put to 
sea, and Nelson, after a long and useless search in the 
Mediterranean, learned that the enemy had passed 
through the Straits of Gibraltar, and effected a junction 
with the Spanish squadron in Cadiz. Having subse- 
quently received information that the destination of the 
united fleets was the West Indies, he sailed thither in 
pursuit. Once more his exertions were baffled ; he 
was led to take a wrong course by a variety of accidents, 
and before he got into the right track the hostile fleets 
were on their return to Europe. Again he gave an in- 
effectual chase ; but, unable to meet them, he bore up 
for the Channel, and for the last time visited England. 

At Portsmouth he at length heard that the combined 
fleet had been met by Sir Robert Calder, who had 
taken two of their ships, but had not followed up his 
success with all the energy which the English nation 
expected. It is, however, only justice to say, that Sir 
Robert Calder's force was so far inferior to that of the 
enemy, that the capture of these two ships ought to 
have been regarded as a brilliant achievement. After 
this action, the French and Spanish fleets having refit- 
ted at Vigo, and formed a junction Avith the Ferrol 
squadron, had anived safely in Cadiz. Nelson once 
more offered his services : they were cheerfully ac- 
cepted, and the Admiralty made the most unremitting 
exertions to fit out the ships which he had chosen, par- 
ticularly the Victory, which was once more to bear his 
flag. 

He arrived oft' Cadiz on the 29th of September, but 
took care to conceal the fact from the enemy, and also 
to hide the exact number of his ships. Owing to these 



LORD NELSON. 267 

precautious, the combined fleets, confiding in their sup- 
posed superiority, put to sea on the 19th of October, 
and on the 21st the hostile armaments came into col- 
Usion. Our fleet consisted of twenty-seven sail of the 
line and four frigates ; theirs of thirty-three sail of the 
line and seven large frigates. Their superiority was 
even greater in size and weight of metal than in num- 
bers. They had also four thousand troops o-n board ; 
and the best rifle-men that could be procured were dis- 
persed through the ships. 

Villeneuve, the French admiral, was a skilful seaman, 
and his plan of battle was equally skilful and original. 
He formed his fleet in a double crescent, each alternate 
ship being so placed as to support that next her, should 
the EngUsh attempt their favorite manoeuvre of breaking 
the hne. Nelson's plan of attack, which he had care- 
fully explained to all his admirals and captains, was to 
bear down upon the enemy in two lines ; Collingwood, 
in the Royal Sovereign, leading the lee line of thirteen 
ships, and Nelson, in the Victory, leading the weather 
line of fourteen ships. All arrangements being com- 
pleted. Nelson gave his last memorable signal — " Eng- 
land EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY." It WaS 

received throughout the fleet with a shout of acclama- 
tion, and every man nerved himself to fulfil the injunc- 
tion. 

ColHngwood's division first closed with the enemy, 
the Royal Sovereign breaking through the centre of 
their line. Shortly after Nelson's line took its share in 
the engagement, the Victory ran on board the Re- 
doubtable, and at the same time was exposed to the fire 
of the Bucentaure and the Santissima Trinidad. On 
this fatal day Nelson wore all his decorations, and thus 
made himself a conspicuous mark for the enemy's rifle- 
men. About a quarter after one, just in the heat of the 
action, he was mortally wounded by a musket-shot from 
the raizzen-top of the Redoubtable, and was carried 
below. As life ebbed away, he was cheered by the 
shouts which the sailors raised as ship after ship of the 
hostile fleet struck ; the last guns whicli were fired at 
the flying enemy were heard a minute or two before he 
«xpired. 



268 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Twenty of the enemy's ships stj-uck, but it was not 
possible to bring the prizes to England ; a heavy gale 
came on; some sunk, others ran ashoie, one escaped 
into Cadiz ; four were saved by the greatest exertions, 
and the rest were destroyed. It was the greatest blow 
which the French navy had ever received, and its ef- 
fects were severely felt by Napoleon to the veiy close 
of his career. 

Every possible honor which a grateful country could 
bestow was heaped upon the memory of Nelson ; his 
brother was created an earl, munificent grants were 
made to his family ; his remains were interred, at the 
public expense, in St. Paul's Cathedral, where a public 
monument has been erected to his memory. The na- 
tion mourned his loss sincerely and deeply ; grief for 
his death checked the joy for such a glorious victoiy, and 
even now he continues to be the most popular of Eng- 
lish heroes, equally reverenced for his bravery and loved 
for the kindliness of his heart. 

The French ships that escaped from Trafalgar did 
not reach a place of safety. They were met off Roche- 
fort by Sir Richard Stiachan, and were all captured. 
Villeneuve was sent a prisoner to England, but soon ob- 
tained permission to return to France. On the road to 
Paris he committed suicide, either through fear of a 
court-martial, or from the keenness with which he felt 
the gi-eatness of the calamity that had been brought upon 
his country by his instrumentality. 



WILLIAM PITT. 



There never was a statesman in England who 
wielded such power as Mr. Pitt possessed during his 
life, or whose influence was more extensively felt after 
his death. He was born on the 28th of May, 1759, and 
at an early age gave strong indications of the industry 
and talent which must be combined to insure success in 
public life. His father, the Earl of Chatham, the most 
popular if not the greatest statesman of his age, sedu- 
lously attended to the education of a child who gave 
promise of continuing his fame in a second generation, 
and had him instructed at home, under his own eye, 
until he was fit for the University of Cambridge. In the 
university he acquired a very extensive knowledge, not 
only of classical literature but of mathematical science, 
and with political philosophy he was more familiar than 
most Englishmen of his own age. 

In 1780 he was called to the bar, and in the following 
year he was returned to Parliament for the borough of 
Appleby, through the influence of Sir James Lowther. 
Young as he was, great expectations were formed by 
those who remembered his father's fervid eloquence, 
and who had heard how high the young man's abilities 
were rated by the few who enjoyed the privilege of 
his acquaintance. Nor were these expectations disap- 
pointed. Being unexpectedly called upon to reply to 
Lord Nugent, he delivered an unpremeditated oration, 
so remarkable for close argument and perspicuous dic- 
tion, that he at once established himself in the first rank 
of parliamentary debaters. 

z2 



270 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

This success was not a mere emanation of genius ; it 
was the result of a mind sedulously trained and carefully 
disciplined in habits of reflection. Before he obtained a 
seat in the legislature he had been a constant attendant 
on the parliamentary debates, and had exercised his 
mind in sketching replies to those speeches from which 
he differed, and improvements on those with which he 
agreed. This habit, united to his familiarity with the 
writings of the best masters of style, aided him in at- 
taining that command of language and facility in reply 
by which he was distinguished above all his contempo- 
raries. 

At this time the increasing disasters of the American 
war had gi-eatly weakened Lord North's ministry in 
Parliament, and quite destroyed its popularity in the 
country. Mr. Pitt joined the ranks of the opposition, 
or rather of that section of the opposition which recog- 
nized for its leader the Earl of Shelburne (afterwards 
Marquis of Lansdowne) ; this party indeed had long 
acted in concert with what was called the gi*eat Whig 
opposition, of which the Marquis of Rockingham and 
Mr. Fox were the leaders, but there were many jeal- 
ousies between the two sections, which prevented any 
cordiality in their union. 

Though Mr. Fox was always ready to do justice to 
the eminent qualities of Mr. Pitt, he seems not to 
have sought him as an ally or a colleague, and indeed 
between two such eminent men it would have been 
hard to determine which ought to have been contented 
with the second part. Though in Parliament, Mr. 
Pitt continued his attention to his profession, and went 
the western circuit; from the abilities he displayed 
there is little doubt that he would have attained to the 
highest dignity of the law, if he had continued at the 
bar. One reason for his continuing to practice is highly 
creditable to his mental and moral character. His pro- 
fession gave him an independent position, which freed 
him from the necessity of accepting any inferior office 
for the sake of its emoluments. 

When Lord North's ministry fell to pieces, and a 
new administration was formed under the Marquis of 
Rockingham, in which Lord Shelburne was included, 



WILLIAM PITT. 271 

no place in the cabinet was offered to Mr. Pitt, and he 
refused any situation of inferior rank. He gave general 
support to the ministerial measures, but took advantage 
of his independence to propose a reform in Parliament, 
which Mr. Fox supported. The motion was lost, but 
the ability and constitutional learning displayed by the 
mover produced a powerful effect in the country. 

On the death of Lord Rockingham the king appointed 
Lord Shelburne premier, upon which Mr. Fox and his 
friends resigned their offices. Lord Shelburne then 
gave the strongest proof of the high estimate he had 
formed of Mr. Pitt's talents, by appointing him Chan- 
cellor of the Exchequer. Thus, when little more than 
twenty-three years of age, he was appointed to super- 
intend the finances of Great Britain, and this too at a 
crisis of peculiar difficulty, when all the pecuniary con- 
cerns of the countiy were thrown into a state of gi'eat 
embarrassment by the termination of a disastrous war. 

In the Ufe of Mr. Fox we have already given the 
history of the coalition between him and Lord North, 
by which these strange allies triumphed over Lord 
Shelburne's administi-ation in Parliament, but at the 
same time gi-ievously damaged their own character and 
influence in the country. Their united parties gave 
them a majority which Lord Shelburne's cabinet could 
not resist ; its members consequently resigned, but the 
king was so averse to the coalition that he asked Mr. 
Pitt to take himself the office of premier, and endeavor 
to carry on the government. Honorable as was this 
offer, it was prudently decUned ; the union of two 
powerful parties gave the coalition too decided a pre- 
ponderance in the legislature, and it was probably fore- 
seen that the coalition ministry, framed of discordant 
materials, thoroughly disliked by the king, and generally 
suspected in the country, could not long continue with- 
out affording an opportunity for effecting its overthrow. 
If Mr. Pitt had thus calculated, events justified his 
foresight. 

Without questioning the merits or policy of Mr. Fox's 
India bills, it is indisputable that those measures which 
proposed to transfer great power and great patronage to 
conjijiissioners named by Pari a!nent — thnt is, in fact, by 



272 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

the ministry — had some resemblance to a project for 
rendering an obnoxious cabinet independent of the king, 
and, perhaps, also of the nation. It was of course vehe- 
mently opposed by the entire body of East India propri- 
etors, whose power and pati'onage it gi-eatly curtailed ; 
the king looked upon it as a plan to deprive him of au- 
thority, and public opinion stigmatized it as a measure 
designed to strengthen a party at the expense of the 
general interest. Hence Mr. Pitt had the support of 
large sympathies when he struggled against the measure 
in the House of Commons, although he could not ex- 
hibit any large minorities of votes. When the bills went 
up to the Lords, they were defeated by the direct in- 
terference of the king, and his majesty immediately 
afterward dismissed his ministers, with, perhaps, an 
unnecessary display of personal dislike. 

Mr. Pitt was again offered the place of premier ; this 
time he accepted it, and at the age of five-and-t\venty 
he undertook the perilous task of administering the 
government in defiance of a majority of the House of 
Commons. Mr. Fox saw that this was to be a decisive 
sti'uggle almost for political existence, and supported by 
a phalanx of friends, possessing eloquence, influence, 
and a majority of votes, he assailed his rival with every 
weapon which the forms of Parliament placed at his dis- 
posal. The measures proposed by the minister were 
rejected, and resolutions were passed censuring him for 
holding office. Mr. Pitt went through the painful strug- 
gle with unrivaled fortitude, temper, and patience. He 
waited until the supplies were voted and the formal 
business of the session terminated, and he then dissolved 
the Parliament. 

The elections gave decisive proof that through his late 
unprecedented struggle Mr. Pitt had been supported by 
the nation ; gi-eat numbers of Mr. Fox's friends lost 
their seats, and in the new Parliament the Pitt adminis- 
tration had an ovenvhelming majority. 

Fixed firmly in office, Mr. Pitt zealously exerted 
himself to remedy the disastrous consequences of the 
American war, and particularly the gi-eat derangement 
of the British finances. With true wisdom he resolved 
to remove the restrictions which fettered British com- 



WILLIAM PITT. 273 

merce, but his enlightened views on this subject were 
not always received favorably, and the mutual jealousies 
between the parliaments of England and Ireland pre- 
vented the success of his celebrated propositions for 
regulating the commerce of the two countries. 

His next great effort was to establish a sinking fund 
for the gradual extinction of the national debt : his plan 
was received at the time with general applause, but ex- 
perience has since proved it to be impracticable. It is, 
however, his best praise to say, that, having found on 
entering Office an annual deficiency of several millions in 
the revenue, he in two years not only raised the revenue 
to the level of the expenditure of the country, but ob- 
tained a surplus of a million to be apphed to the reduc- 
tion of the national debt. So general was the satisfac- 
tion produced, that the opposition scarcely offered any 
resistance to his measures, and but for the impeachment 
of Warren Hastings, the parliamentary debates of this 
period would have been destitute of interest. On the 
question of impeachment Mr. Pitt at first hesitated, and 
though he finally gave his vote for the measure, he took 
no share in its management. 

Perhaps one of the most honorable events of Mr. Pitt's 
life was his conclusion of a. treaty of commerce with 
France, by which numerous prohibitions were removed, 
and the conditions, upon which the different articles of 
merchandise were to be mutually admitted into the 
respective countries, were fixed. It was unfortunate 
for the fame of Mr. Fox and his friends, that they re- 
sisted this wise and beneficial measure, on the ground 
that France and England were " natural and unalterable 
enemies ;" their frequent and long hostilities ought only 
to have furnished an additional reason for facilitating 
that commercial intercourse which is the surest bond of 
peace between nations. Unfortunately, the French 
revolution and its long train of continental wars pre- 
vented this treaty from being effectively carried into 
operation, but it is not to be made the ground of objec- 
tion to a salutary measure, that its working was defeated 
by events which no one could possibly have foreseen. 
In the midst of his prosperous career of financial reform, 
Mr. Pitt was suddenly checked by the serious illness of 
18 



274 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

the king, and tlie necessity of providing for a regency. 
As the Prince of Wales was at this time the intimate 
friend of all the great leaders of opposition, it was gene- 
rally believed that on his advent to power he would have 
changed the ministry ; hence Mr. Pitt labored hard to 
impose resti-ictions on the regent, while Mr. Fox con- 
tended that the prince should be invited to assume royal 
power. Mr. Pitt's form of regency was that which the 
Parliament approved, but the fortunate recovery of his 
majesty rendered it unnecessary to put the plan into 
execution. 

The disputes with Spain about Nootka Sound, hap- 
pily terminated by the firmness of the British minister, 
and some alarm excited by the overweening ambition of 
Russia, scarcely interrupted the general ti-anquillity of 
Europe ; but the attention of all began to be fixed on 
the rapid progress of revolutionary principles in France, 
which, for a brief season, seemed to promise salutaiy 
reform, but soon menaced the overthrow of social order. 
Mr. Pitt did not at first view the progress of the revolu- 
tion with the alarm which it excited in the minds of the 
great majority of his supporters, and though he ap- 
plauded Mr. Burke's conduct in seceding from those 
who viewed the proceedings of the French with appro- 
bation, he did not encourage the proposals for declaring 
war ; on the contrary, he took occasion, in the session of 
1792, to declare that he saw nothing likely to disturb the 
prospects of continued peace. 

But he showed in the same session some apprehen- 
sion at the spread of republican opinions in England, and 
made this his excuse for abandoning the cause of parlia- 
mentary reform which he had previously supported. It 
must be confessed that his apprehensions were not 
gi'oundless ; societies had been formed to spread dan- 
gerous doctrines, and the proceedings of these bodies were 
directed by men of very questionable prudence. While 
the increasing violence of the French, and the cruelty 
which they showed to then* unhappy sovereign, filled the 
minds of most thinking men with alarm, some of these 
societies publicly expressed approbation of those dange- 
rous proceedings, and, though they formed but a miser- 
able minority in the nation, their activity and clamor 



WILLIAM PITT. 275 

for a long time concealed the deficiency of their num- 
bers. 

Toward the close of the year 1792, all prospects of 
being able to remain at peace with France had disap- 
peared. Both nations were clamorous for war, and the 
rulers of both made no effort to restrain their hostile 
passions. When intelligence of the execution of Louis 
XVI. reached London, the metropolis exhibited an 
almost universal sadness, as if England had suffered 
some great national calamity; but this soon gave way 
to feelings of indignation and resentment, which were 
aggravated by the intemperate language of the leaders 
of the French Convention. The very form in which 
this body chose to announce the commencement of hos- 
tilities, was calculated to provoke a loyal people ; on the 
1st of February, 1793, they proclaimed war against the 
King of Great Britain and the Stadlholder of Holland, 
thus attempting to establish an insidious distinction be- 
tween the people and their sovereign. 

Though Pitt may be said to have been forced into this 
war, he showed no want of spirit or firmness in defend- 
ing its policy or providing resources for its maintenance. 
Fresh taxes were imposed, large loans raised, and all the 
resources of the empire strained to the utmost. Severe 
measures of repression were adopted against those ac- 
cused of disseminating French principles in England ; 
but, in some instances, the excess of precaution defeated 
its own object, and the acquittal of Hardy, Home Tooke, 
and others who had been indicted for high treason, great- 
ly weakened the moral influence of the ministry. We 
need not here enter into the history of the war ; though 
Great Britain maintained her supremacy by sea, the 
enemy triumphed over the Continental powers on land, 
and thus rendered perseverance hopeless. Pitt also had 
many difficulties to contend against at home : the scarcity 
of money, arising from the heavy loans to defray Conti- 
nental subsidies, led to a suspension of cash payments in 
1797; dangerous mutinies broke out in the fleet; Ire- 
land was convulsed by a perilous insurrection, and two 
bad harvests in succession spread scarcity through the 
land. The premier undauntedly faced all these calami- 
ties ; having in vain endeavored to open negotiations for 



276 MODERN BRITISH PLL'TARCH. 

peace with the French government, through Lord Mal- 
mesbury, he appealed to the indomitable spirit of the 
English people, and received in turn an amount of sup- 
port which was quite unprecedented. A duel with Mr. 
Tierney, to whom he had imputed factious motives, was 
a proof of intemperate rashness rather than personal 
courage ; but it increased his popularity at a time when 
a military spirit was rife throughout the nation. 

But the measure most creditable to the character of 
Mr. Pitt as a statesman was the union between England 
and Ireland, which had long been contemplated, but 
which, since the suppression of the insurrection of 1798, 
had become a matter of obvious necessity. It must be 
confessed that some of the means employed to insure 
success are open to censure ; but the mutual benefits 
which the union has conferred on both countries are 
equally great and palpable. It was part of Mr. Pitt's 
plan to grant those concessions to the Catholics, usually 
included in the term " Catholic Emancipation;" but he 
found, very unexpectedly, that the king entertained in- 
superable objections to any such proposal. A corre- 
spondence ensued between the king and the minister ; 
neither was willing to yield, and Mr. Pitt in consequence 
resigned his office. The king's agitation on the occasion 
was so gi-eat as to bring on a temporary return of the 
mental indisposition to which he was subject. Mr. Ad- 
dington, afterward Lord Sidmouth, succeeded to the 
office of premier, and Mr. Pitt for a time appeared to 
give his cordial support to the new administration. The 
peace of Amiens, concluded under the auspices of Mr. 
Addington in 1802, was accepted as a welcome respite 
both in France and England. In fact, the two bellige- 
rent powers had scarcely the means of carrying on an 
active war against each other : without any aUies or 
auxiliaries on the Continent, England could not hope to 
touch France by land ; with fleets ruined or blockaded, 
with a navy completely disheartened, France could as 
little expect to assail England by sea. Mr. Pitt justified 
the ministry in yielding to such an obvious necessity, 
and defended the articles of the peace against his old 
colleagues, Mr. Windham and Lord Grenville. But the 
ambition of Napoleon, after he had been elected First 



WILLIAM PITT. 277 

Consul for life, became so manifest, and so perilous to 
the independence of the European states, that a renewal 
of the war became inevitable. When hostilities com- 
menced, a general conviction was spread abroad that the 
Addington administration was inadequate to the crisis, 
and it was hoped that the leading statesmen of all parties 
would combine to form a cabinet. Pitt, without formally 
joining Fox and Lord Grenville, went into opposition, 
and the king saw that it would be necessary to form a 
new cabinet. Great difficulties arose ; the king was as 
averse as ever to Cathohc emancipation, and he was 
still more averse to receiving Fox as one of his minis- 
ters. After a long delay, which the nation bore with 
great impatience, Pitt yielded to the royal prejudices, 
and thus alienated from himself his old friends the Gren- 
villes, who refused to support or belong to any adminis- 
tration in which Mr. Fox was not included. 

But though restored to office, and assured of the royal 
support, Pitt felt his ministerial position to be one of 
extreme difficulty. His majorities were small, and all 
his influence was insufficient to save his friend Lord 
Melville from a parliamentary impeachment. This, 
and some similar mortifications, preyed upon his health, 
and he was obliged to gb to Bath to try the efi'ect of its 
sanatory waters. But events of greater magnitude soon 
overwhelmed him ; the great coalition of Russia and 
Austria, which he had organized against France, was 
shattered to pieces by the disasti'ous battles of Ulm and 
Austerlitz ; when Parliament assembled in Januaiy, 
1806, he was unable to attend, and his sickness increas- 
ed so rapidly that he died on the twenty-third of the 
month, in the forty-seventh year of his age. 

The abilities and the integrity of this great man have 
never been questioned ; but he has been accused of com- 
promising his principles through love of power. It 
must, however, be acknowledged that he did not seek 
power for the sake of the emoluments of office, or from 
any selfish motive : he died deeply involved in debt; but 
Parliament voted a sum sufficient to pay his creditors, 
and his remains were honored with a public funeral and 
a tomb in Westminster Abbey. It was, perhaps, a dis- 
advantage to Mr. Pitt that he attained the summit of 
A A 



278 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

power too early iu life ; a previous training in some sub- 
ordinate situation would have given him those habits of 
discipline and order which are necessary to the execu- 
tion of gi-eat projects. He was compelled to ti'ust too 
much to others in matters of detail, and he was far from 
being happy in his selection of instruments. He may be 
said to have been killed by the enemy, though he did 
not fall in battle ; but had not his constitution been pre- 
viously weakened from other causes, he might have sur- 
vived to witness the unexpected triumph of European 
independence over the despotism of France ; this was 
the great object of his policy, and, fortunately, not only 
for England, but the world, it was not abandoned by his 
successors. 



SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 



The family of this distinguished lawyer emigi-ated 
from France to escape from the persecutions to which 
the Protestants of that country were exposed after the 
revocation of the Edict of Nantes by Louis XIV. Many 
of the Protestant emigrants settled in or near London, 
and entered into business : their sufferings, their piety 
and integrity, saved them from the jealousy with which 
Englishmen too often regard foreigners ; and many of 
them became founders of families which have since risen 
to wealth and distinction. The father of the subject of 
our history was a jeweler of some eminence ; he pos- 
sessed great intelligence, and still greater amiability of 
character, and was fondly loved, not only by his family, 
but by all who had an opportunity of making his ac- 
quaintance. Out of nine children, the three youngest 
alone survived infancy, and for this reason they were 
regarded with peculiar fondness by their parents. Sam- 
uel, who was born in 1757, has given a ver}'^ interesting 
account of his early years. His affections were more 
sedulously cultivated than his intellect, and it cost him 
much labor in later life to overcome the defects of his 
scholastic education. At first he was associated with 
his father in business, and finding that he had much leis- 
ure time at his disposal, he commenced a laborious course 
of classical, varied by more miscellaneous studies ; and 
thus laid the foundation of that extensive knowledge by 
which he was preeminently distinguished in the legal 
profession. Though he disliked his father's business, 
he attended to it steadily, until the bequest of a relative 
furnished him with the means of seeking a more con- 



280 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

genial pursuit. His father complied with his desires, 
and articled him to one of the Six Clerlis in Chancery, 
with the intention of purchasing him one of those offices, 
so soon as he attained a proper age. 

The business of a Chancery clerk being restricted to a 
narrow compass, Romilly employed all his leisure hours 
in study, and for a time fixed his ambition on literary 
hfe. While thus engaged, he became intimate with 
the Rev. Mr. Roget, a native of Geneva, who had been 
appointed minister of the French chapel which the 
Romilly family attended. Roget was a gentleman of 
extensive acquirements and refined taste. He soon be- 
came interested in Romilly's studies, and stimulated him 
to perseverance by predictions of future success. Their 
friendship was further cemented by the marriage of this 
estimable clergyman with Romilly's sister, soon after 
which Romilly resolved to renounce the Six Clerks' 
Office, and try his fortune as a barrister. His chief mo- 
tive for this change was a generous reluctance to subject 
his father to inconvenience by taking from him the sum 
uecessaiy to purchase the office of a sworn clerk ; and 
thus his subsequent success in life may, in some meas- 
ure, be ascribed to the tenderness of his filial piety. At 
the age of twenty-one he became a student in Gray's 
Inn ; and while he eagerly devoted himself to the acqui- 
sition of legal lore, he lost no opportunity of adding to 
his store of general knowledge. His labors at length 
became too great for his health, and this occurred at a 
time when the serious illness of Roget rendered it neces- 
sary for him to remove to Geneva, for the benefit of his 
native air. Before Romilly had recovered, he was re- 
quested to bring Roget's little son to Geneva, that his 
parents might have the consolation of his company. 
This tour had the effect of restoring his health, and of 
introducing him to many eminent persons at Geneva 
and at Paris, through wiiich he passed on his return. 
Through Roget, he made the acquaintance of Dumont, 
to whom he became strongly attached. In Paris he 
met Diderot and D'Alembert, then the most eminent 
wi'iters remaining in France. He admired the abilities 
of these great men, without being corrupted by their 
infidel principles ; indeed, their extravagance served 



SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 281 

rather to confirm his belief in the ti'uths of the Chris- 
tian religion. 

Romilly was called to the bar in 3 783, but was pre- 
vented from going his first circuit by the death of his 
brother-in-law, and the consequent necessity of bringing 
home his sister from Geneva. In this brief tour he 
made the acquaintance of Dr. Frankhn at Paris, and 
appears to have acquired the favorable opinions of that 
philosopher. On his return to England he was intro- 
duced to the celebrated Mirabeau, and undertook to 
translate the count's pamphlet against the order of the 
Cincinnati, then recently estabhshed in America. This 
led to considerable intimacy, and Romilly had the dis- 
crimination to profit by Mirabeau's noble qualities with- 
out being injured by the vices by which these qualities 
were debased. About the same time Mr. Romilly pub- 
hshed some ti-acts on constitutional law, which procured 
him the friendship of the first Lord Lansdowne, from 
which, however, the principal advantage he derived, 
was some valuable letters of introduction when he vis- 
ited Paris for the third time in 1788. At this period the 
French monarchy was evidently about to undergo some 
gi-eat change, the effects of which must depend on the 
character of those who guided the revolution. Notwith- 
standing his ardent love of liberty, Romilly had little con- 
fidence in the prudence of those to whom the destinies 
of France were intrusted ; and at a subsequent visit he 
saw much to diminish his hopes and to increase his fears. 
We have no accurate information respecting the early 
part of this great lawyer's career at the bar. His pro- 
gress as a barrister on circuit was very slow, but in 
chancery his talents were earlier discerned, and he 
soon began to confine all his attention to that court. As 
his talents gi-adually becaine known, his business rapidly 
increased, and he was already regarded as one of the 
most eminent of his profession, in 1798, when he- mar- 
ried Miss Garbett, to whom he had long been fondly 
attached. His political opinions identified him with the 
Whig party, and he lived on terms of intimacy with 
most^'of its leaders ; but he was not the less esteemed by 
their opponents, and he reckoned Wilberforce, Thorn- 
ton, and many others, among the number of his friends. 
A A 2 



282 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

During the bi'ief peace of 1802, he again visited Pa- 
ris, and unUke many of his pohtical associates, conceived 
a hearty dislike for Bonaparte, whom he regarded as a 
usurper and a tyrant. Nevertheless, he deprecated the 
renewal of the war with France, but took no public part 
in opposition. In 1805, the Bishop of Durham, with- 
out any solicitation, offered him the chancellorship of 
that diocese, which he accepted, though with some re- 
luctance ; and in the autumn of the same year he was 
proffered a seat in Parliament by the Prince of Wales. 
With his usual good sense, he declined this offer ; for, 
though anxious to obtain a seat in Parliament, he was 
very unwilling to appear as any person's nominee. The 
prince was not offended ; for when Fox's administration 
was formed, he was the chief agent in procuring for 
Romilly the office of solicitor-general. In April, 1806, 
he was elected, by the influence of the ministry, for the 
borough of Queenborough, and immediately after taking 
his seat, was appointed one of the committee for con- 
ducting the impeachment of Lord Melville. At the 
same time he took a share in the " delicate investiga- 
tion" into the conduct of the Princess af Wales. In his 
diary he recorded his conviction of that unhappy lady's 
innocence of the charges which at this time were brought 
against her ; though he intimates that she showed a 
gi-eat deficiency of prudence and delicacy. It is more 
honorable to his character to state, that he took a lead- 
ing part in the final effort made for the abolition of the 
slave-ti'ade ; and his speeches on the occasion ai'e be- 
lieved to have greatly swelled the majority by which 
that measure was triumphantly carried. 

When the Whig administration was dissolved in 1807, 
Romilly lost his office and his seat in Parliament; he 
therefore, as he had often declared his intention of doing, 
purchased the representation of the borough of Hors- 
ham, but was subsequently unseated on petition. " Du- 
ring the short time I was out of Parliament," he records 
in his diaiy, " I regi-etted very much that I had made 
no attempt to mitigate the severity of the criminal law. 
It appeared to me, that merely to have brought the sub- 
ject under the view of the public, and to have made it a 
matter of parliamentary discussion, would, though my 



SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 283 

motion had been rejected, have been attended with good 
effects. On coming again into Parhament, therefore, 1 
determined to resume my original design. In the mean- 
time, I had had some conversation on the subject with 
my friend Scarlett (the late Lord Abinger), and he had 
advised me not to content myself with merely raising the 
amount of the value of property, the stealing of which 
is to subject the offender to capital punishment, but to 
attempt at once to repeal all the statutes which punish 
with death mere thefts, unaccompanied by any act of 
violence, or other circumstance of aggravation. This 
suggestion was very agi-eeable to me : but, as it appear- 
ed to me that I had no chance of being able to cany 
through the house a bill which was to expunge at once 
all these laws from the statute-book, I determined to 
attempt the repeal of them one by one, and to begin 
with the most odious of them, the act of Queen Eliza- 
beth, which makes it a capital offence to steal privately 
from the person of another." 

In this passage, written on the day when he was elect- 
ed for Wareham, Sir Samuel Romilly describes the task 
to which he devoted the greater part of the years of his 
valuable life. The wisdom of rejecting the advice of his 
too ardent friend was fully proved, in the obstinate re- 
sistance which most of the proposed measures had to 
encounter. Session after session, the unwearied philan- 
thropist proclaimed the sad waste of human life produ- 
ced by the indiscriminate severity of the criminal code, 
and showed that this severity only tended to encourage 
crime by deterring injured parties from prosecuting, and 
juries from convicting ; so that the criminal's chances of 
escape were indefinitely multiplied. He met a long 
continuance of disappointments ; for, after his measures 
had passed the ordeal of the House of Commons, they 
were almost certain of being rejected in the Lords, by 
the influence of Lords Eldon and Ellenborough. On 
the occasion of renewing his efforts to promote the pass- 
ing of three bills, which had been rejected in a previous 
session, he said, "It is not from light motives that I 
have presumed to reconnnend an alteration in a matter 
so important as the criminal law of the land. I have 
always thought that it was the duty of every man to use 



284 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

the means wliicli he possessed for the purpose of ad- 
vancing the well-being of his fellow-creatures ; and I am 
not aware of any way in which I can advance that well- 
being so eftectually as by adopting the course which I 
now pursue. Lord Coke used to say, that he considered 
every man who was successful in his profession was under 
an obligation to benefit society ; and the works which 
that gi-eat and learned man produced, after a life of labor 
in the high situation in which he was placed, were his 
mode of paying the social debt. So, for myself, my suc- 
cess and my good fortune in my profession have laid me 
under a debt to the society among whom I live ; and the 
way in which I intend to discharge that obligation is, 
by endeavoring to meliorate the law, and thus to in- 
crease the security and happiness of my countiy. It is 
not a Httle that will discourage me. I am not to be dis- 
couraged by the consideration that I have hitherto spent 
a great deal of time on this subject, without doing much 
good." 

The criminal law did not, however, engi-oss the whole 
of this great statesman's attention ; he took an active part 
in the leading questions of the day, and was always 
heard with respect even by the ministers whom he op- 
posed. It would lead us too far into mere political dis- 
cussion to dweU on these parts of his parliamentary 
career, but we may mention his exertions to improve 
the bankrupt-laws, to procure a more efficient adminis- 
tration of justice in the Court of Chancery, and to 
protect the rights of the industrious poor. Popular con- 
stituencies began now to look to him as a worthy repre- 
sentative ; some steps were taken to secure his election 
for Middlesex, which proved abortive, but at Bristol, 
where he stood a contest, he would have been returned 
but for an unexpected coalition between the other can- 
didates. He was then, through the interest of the 
Duke of Norfolk, chosen member for Arundel. 

At the close of the year 1812, Romilly recorded the 
following beautiful prayer in his diary, which we extract 
as a fine illustration of his noble character : — 

"Almighty God! Creator of all things! the source 
of all wisdom, and goodness, and virtue, and happiness ! 
I bow down before Thee — not to offer up prayers, for I 



SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 285 

dare not presume to think, or hope, that Thy most just, 
unerring, and supreme will can be in any degree influ- 
enced by any supplications of mine, — nor to pour forth 
praises and adorations, for I feel that I am unworthy to 
offer them ; but in all humility, and with a deep sense 
of my own insignificance, to express the thanks of a con- 
tented and happy being, for the innumerable benefits 
which he enjoys. I cannot reflect that I am a human 
being, living in civilized society, born the member of a 
free state, the son of virtuous and tender parents, blest 
Avith an ample fortune, endowed with faculties which 
have enabled me to acquire that fortune myself, enjoy- 
ing a fair reputation, beloved by my relations, esteemed 
by my friends, thought w^ell of by most of my country- 
men to whom my name is known, united to a kind, 
virtuous, enlightened, and most affectionate wife, the 
father of seven children, all in perfect health, and all 
giving, by the goodness of their dispositions, a promise 
of future excellence, and though myself far advanced in 
life, yet still possessed of health and strength, which 
seem to aflbrd me the prospect of future years of enjoy- 
ment : I cannot reflect on these things, and not express 
my gratitude to Thee, O God ! from whom all this good 
has flowed. I am sincerely grateful for all this happi- 
ness. I am sincerely grateful for the happiness of all 
those who are most dear to me, of my beloved wife, of 
my sweet children, of my relations, of my friends. 

" I prostrate myself, O Almighty and Omniscient God, 
before Thee. In endeavoring to contemplate Thy di- 
vine attributes, I seek to elevate my soul toward Thee : 
I seek to improve and ennoble my faculties, and to 
strengthen and quicken my ardor for the public good : 
and 1 appear to myself to rise above my earthly exist- 
ence, while I am indulging the hope, that I may at some 
time prove a humble instrument in the divine work of 
enlarging the sphere of human happiness." 

Sir Samuel Romilly was opposed to the renewal of 
the war against France after Napoleon had returned 
from Elba; and when the fate of the emperor was de- 
cided at Waterloo, he generously exerted himself to 
insure the safety of those Frenchmen Avho had endan- 
gered themselves by the part they had taken against the 



286 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Bourbons. He brought the persecutions to which the 
French Protestants in the department- of the Gard were 
exposed, under the notice of Parliament ; and though he 
encountered much obloquy, his efforts induced the min- 
isters of Louis XVIII. to grant protection to the injured 
Protestants. His humanity was also displayed in exer- 
tions to procure some securities for the negroes of the 
West Indies, against the despotic power of their mas- 
ters. But his greatest parliamentaiy efforts were ex- 
erted against the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, 
and the other measures of repression introduced by the 
ministers to check the political agitation, which, in 1817, 
appeared to menace the peace of the country. From 
his first entrance into Parliament, he had been the con- 
sistent supporter of Catholic Emancipation ; and in the 
session of 1817, he was a closer attendant on the House 
of Commons, and a more frequent speaker, than in any 
previous part of his parliamentaiy career. On the dis- 
solution of Parliament in 1818, he was elected member 
for Westminster, free of expense. The contest was 
severe, but Romilly stood at the head of the poll. But 
this ti'iumph was soon clouded over ; the wife to whom 
he was so fondly attached was taken ill, and she died on 
the 29th of October, 1818. His anxiety, during her 
sickness, preyed upon his mind, and aflected his health, 
and the shock occasioned by her death produced a nei*v- 
ous excitement, which ended in a derangement of his 
intellects. While his reason was thus affected, he com- 
mitted suicide on the 2d of November, 1818, in the sixty- 
second year of his age. 

Rarely has a statesman fallen so universally regretted 
as Sir Samuel Romilly ; his eminent abilities, his un- 
swerving integrity, his enlightened philanthropy, and 
his devotion to what he believed the real good of his 
countiy, were recognized by men of all parties ; but 
though he fell prematurely, his work was done. The 
amehorations for which he had so earnestly contended 
during life, became the law of the land not many years 
after his death ; thus exemplifying the fine aphorism of 
Grattan, " The labors of the patriot, like the words of 
the prophet, will not die with the holy man, but will sur- 
vive him." 



SIR WALTER SCOTT, 



The life of an author, who took no active part in pub- 
lic affairs, but sent forth from his own fireside those 
marvels of imagination which have afforded delight and 
instruction to millions, furnishes interest of a different 
kind from the biographies of those whose names are as- 
sociated with great events. We look more to the man 
than to his age ; we endeavor to trace the circumstances 
by which his mind was moulded, and his tastes formed, 
and we feel anxious to discover the connection between 
his literary and his personal history and character. 
There have been few authors in whose career this con- 
nection was more strongly apparent than in Sir Walter 
Scott ; his life is, to a great extent, identified with his 
writings, and this appears to be the source of that feel- 
ing of truth and reality which is forced upon us while 
perusing his fictions. He was born at Edinburgh, Au- 
gust 15th, 1771 ; his father was one of that respectable 
class of attorneys called, in Scotland, writers to the sig- 
net, and was the original, from whom his son subse- 
quently drew the character of Mr. Saunders Fairford 
in " Redgauntlet." His mother was a lady of taste and 
imagination ; an accidental lameness, and a delicate con- 
stitution, procured for Walter a more than ordinary por- 
tion of maternal care, and the influence of his mother's 
instructions was strongly impressed on his character. 
In early childhood he was sent for change of air to the 
country-seat of his maternal grandfather, where he first 
developed his extraordinary powers of memory by learn- 
ing the ti'aditionary legends of border heroism and chiv- 



288 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

airy, which used to be recited at the fireside, on a win- 
ter's evening. His early taste for the romantic was a 
little checked, when he returned to Edinburgh in his 
eighth year, for his father was rather a strict adherent 
to forms, and looked upon poeti-y and fiction as very 
questionable indulgencies. The discovery of a copy of 
Shakspeare, and an odd volume of Percy's " Relics," 
enabled him to resume his favorite pursuits, though the 
hours he devoted to them were stolen from sleep. He 
was sent at an early age to the High School of Edin- 
burgh, but was not particularly distinguished in the regu- 
lar course of study. His companions, however, soon 
discovered his antiquarian tastes, and his passionate love 
for old tales of chivalry, and old chronicles scarcely less 
romantic ; he became noted, too, for reciting stories of 
his own invention, in which he inti"oduced a superabun- 
dance of the marvels of ancient superstition, with a plen- 
tiful seasoning of knight-errantry. He even pursued 
his favorite subject into the continental languages, and 
by his own exertions, enabled himself to peruse the 
works of Ariosto and Cervantes in their original form. 

After a brief residence at the University, he was in- 
dented as an apprentice to his father in 1786. Though 
the daily routine of drudgery in an attorney's office 
must have been painful to a young man of ardent imag- 
ination, he did not neglect any of the tasks which his 
father imposed, and he thus formed habits of method, 
punctuality, and laborious industiy, which were import- 
ant elements of his future success. But, in the midst 
of these duties, he did not lose sight of the favorite ob- 
jects of his study and meditation. He made frequent 
excursions into the lowland and highland districts, in 
search of traditionary lore •, his investigations led him 
to the cottage of the peasant as frequently as to the 
houses of the better class, and his frank manners se- 
cured him a favorable reception from all. 

In 1792, he changed his profession for that of an advo- 
cate, but did not obtain much practice at the Scottish 
bar. His first publication was a translation from the 
German ; Biirger's wild romantic ballads captivated his 
youthful imagination, and his version of them proved 
that he entered deeply into the spirit of the original. 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 289 

Soon afterward, he contributed some pieces to Lewis's 
" Tales of Wonder," which are almost the only frag- 
ments of that work which have escaped oblivion. At 
last, in 1802, he gave to the world the two first volumes 
of his "Border Minstrelsy," printed by his old school- 
fellow, Ballantyne ; its literary merits were enhanced 
by the beauty of its typogi'aphical execution, and its 
appearance made an epoch in Scottish hterary history. 
The ballads of this collection had been very carefully 
edited, while the notes contained a mass of antiquarian 
information relative to border life, conveyed in a beau- 
tiful style, and enlivened with a higher interest than 
poetic fiction. This work at once obtained an extensive 
sale, and its popularity was increased by the appearance 
of the third volume, containing various imitations of the 
old ballad by Mr. Scott, in which the feelings and char- 
acter of antiquity were faithfully preserved, while the 
language and expression were free from the roughness 
of obsolete forms. The copyright of the second edition 
was sold to the Messrs. Longman for five hundred 
pounds, but the great extent of the sale made the bar- 
gain profitable. 

Three years elapsed before he again took the field as 
an author ; but the poem which he then produced, at 
once placed him among the gi-eat original wi'iters of his 
country. "The Lay of the I^ast Minstrel" was a 
complete expansion of the old ballad into an epic form. 
"It seemed," says Prescott, "as if the author had 
ti-ansfused into his page the strong delineations of the 
Homeric pencil, the rude but generous gallantry of a 
primitive period, softened by the more airy and magical 
inventions of Italian romance, and conveyed in tones of 
melody, such as had not been heard since the strains 
of Burns." Its popularity was unprecedented, and its 
success determined the course of his future life. 

Scott's position enabled him to encounter the hazards 
of literary life with comparative safety. He held two 
offices, that of sheriff of Selkirk, and clerk of the Court 
of Sessions, which yielded him a competent income; 
he received some accession to his fortune on his mar- 
riage, and the tastes of his lady prevented her from 
indulging in any of the extravagance of fashionable life. 
19 Bb 



290 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Domestic happiness and rural retirement were favor- 
able to literary exertion; he soon produced a second 
poem, " Marmion," which many critics prefer to all his 
other poems. It was, however, rather harshly at- 
tacked in the "Edinburgh Review" on its first appear- 
ance, which the author felt keenly, as he had been 
himself a contributor to that journal. Scott indeed 
disapproved of the political principles advocated by the 
" Edinburgh Review," and had for some time contem- 
plated the organization of a rival journal. This was the 
origin of the " Quarterly Review," which was established 
mainly in consequence of his exertions. About the 
same time he established a new "Annual Register," 
and became a silent partner in the great printing estab- 
lishment of the Ballantynes. This last step involved 
him in grievous embarrassments, but it stimulated him 
to exertions such as none but a man of his prodigious 
powers could attempt. His biographical, historical, and 
critical labors, united with his editorial toils, were of 
appalling magnitude, but in all his works he proved 
himself to be vigorous and effective. "Poetry," he 
says in one of his letters, " is a scourging crop, and 
ought not to be hastily repeated. Editing, therefore, 
may be considered as a green crop of turnips or peas, 
extremely useful to those whose circumstances do not 
admit of giving then- farm a summer-fallow." 

The " Lady of the Lake" was his next poem ; it 
appeared in 1811, and soon outstripped all his former 
productions in fame and popularity. More than fifty 
thousand copies of it have been sold, and the profits of 
the author exceeded two thousand guineas. It may be 
noticed as a curious proof of the effect it produced on 
the public mind, that the post-horse duty rose to an 
extraordinary degree in Scotland, from the eagerness of 
travelers to visit the localities described in the poem. 
He was now at the zenith of his fame, but at this 
moment a new star arose above the literary horizon, 
whose eccentiic course and dazzling radiance completely 
bewildered the spectator. Lord Byron published his 
"Childe Harold" in 1812, and thus created a complete 
revolution in the poetic taste of the country. He called 
attention from the outward form of man and external 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 291 

nature, to the secret depths of the soul and the darkest 
recesses of its passions. Strains of such immense 
power, and varied harmony, destroyed the reUsh for the 
purer but tamer poetry of Scott. The sale of his next 
poem, "Rokeby," showed that his popularity had de- 
clined, and when this was followed by the comparative 
failure of the " Lord of the Isles," he resolved to 
abandon the field of poetry, and seek for fame in 
another form of composition. 

Ten years before this period he had commenced the 
novel of " Waverley," and thrown the manuscript aside; 
having accidentally discovered the unfinished romance 
amid the old lumber of a garret, he completed it for the 
press in 1814, and published it anonymously. Its ap- 
pearance created a greater sensation, and marks a more 
distinct epoch in literary history than that of his poetry. 
It was the gi-eat object of his ambition to become a 
landowner, and to hold a high rank, not among the 
literary characters, but the country gentlemen of Scot- 
land, and this was one of the causes of his being anxious 
to keep the authorship of his novels a profound secret. 
The same ambition stimulated him to exertion ; he 
produced in rapid succession " Guy Mannering," " The 
Antiquary," " Rob Roy," and the " Tales of my Land- 
lord" in three series, and at the same time published 
several pieces in his own name to increase the mystifi- 
cation of the public. But his incognito was soon de- 
tected ; long before he avowed his romances, the world 
generally had found out his secret; indeed, when he 
was created a baronet in 1820, it was universally under- 
stood that this honor was conferred on him as author of 
the Waverley novels. 

It is not necessary to enumerate all the fictions that 
emanated from the brilliant imagination of the Northern 
Enchanter ; the list would be too long, but we must not 
omit to notice the energy with which he labored. Even 
illness, that would have broken the spirits of most men, 
as it prostrated the physical energies of Scott, opposed 
no impediment to the progress of his compositions. 
When he could not write he could dictate ; and in this 
way, amid the agonies of a racking disease, he com- 
posed the "Bride of Lammermoor," "The Legend of 



292 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Montrose," and a gi-eat part of the most fascinating of 
his works, " Ivanhoe." Never, certainly, did mind 
exhibit so decisive a ti'iumph over physical suffering. 
" Be assured," he remarked to Mr. Gilhes, " that if 
pain could have prevented my application to literaiy 
labor, not a page of ' Ivanhoe' would have been written. 
Now if I had given way to mere feelings, and ceased to 
work, it is a question whether the disorder would not 
have taken deeper root, and become incurable." 

To extend the estate of Abbotsford> and to decorate 
the baronial mansion which he had erected on this 
favorite spot, seemed to be the chief objects of his life. 
The furniture and decorations were of the costliest 
kind ; the wainscots of oak and cedar, or woods of dif- 
ferent dyes ; the ceilings fretted and carved with the 
delicate tracery of a Gothic abbey ; the windows bla- 
zoned with heraldic decoration ; the walls garnished 
with antiquarian trophies, curiosities of art, or volumes 
in the most sumptuous bindings. Everything that lux- 
ury could command or ingenuity devise was lavished on 
this favorite spot, with a profusion which profits less 
enormous than those he derived from his novels could 
not have supported. 

The crowds of visitors that flocked to Abbotsford, 
from all quarters, gi'eatly added to the expenses which 
the hospitable owner had to meet ; but the unbounded 
popularity of his novels appeared to him and to his pub- 
lishers a never-failing supply of funds ; and the Messrs. 
Constable accepted his drafts to the amount of many 
thousand pounds, in favor of works which were not only 
unwritten, but even unimagined. Unfortunately, Scott, 
in return, could not refuse to indorse the drafts of his 
publishers, and thus an amount of liabilities was in- 
curred which would appear quite inexplicable, if expe- 
rience had not shown that the dangerous facilities of 
accommodation bills lead men on to an extent that they 
never discover, until the crash comes. In the gi'eat 
commercial crisis of 1825, Constable's house stopped 
payment ; the assets proved to be very trifling in com- 
parison with the debts, and Sir Walter Scott was found 
to be responsible to the startling amount of one hundred 
thousand pounds ! 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 293 

His conduct on this occasion was truly noble ; he put 
up his house and furniture in Edinburgh to auction, — 
delivered over his personal effects, plate, books, furni- 
ture, &c., to be held in trust for his creditors, — the 
estate itself had been settled on his eldest son when he 
married, — and bound himself to discharge annually a 
certain amount of the liabilities of the insolvent firm. 
He then, with his characteristic energy, set about the 
performance of his herculean task. He took cheap 
lodgings, abridged his usual enjoyments and recreations, 
and labored harder than ever. The death of his be- 
loved lady increased the gloom which the change of 
circumstances produced, but though he sorrowed he 
did not relax his exertions ; one of his first tasks was 
the " Life of Bonaparte," which he completed in the 
short space of thirteen months. For this he received 
from the publishers the sum of fourteen thousand 
pounds, and such w^as its great circulation that they 
had no reason to repent of their bargain. In the same 
year that this work appeared, he took an opportunity of 
publicly avowing his authorship of the Waverley Novels, 
declaring " that their merits, if they had any, and their 
faults were entirely imputable to himself." 

Sir Walter Scott's celebrity made everything that he 
produced acceptable to the public. He did not allow 
these favorable impressions to fade for want of exercise, 
and the list of the works, great and small, which he 
produced to satisfy his creditors, is an unexampled in- 
stance of successful labors. No one of these enter- 
prises was so profitable as the republication of his 
novels in a uniform series, with his own notes and 
illustrations; there have been several successive editions 
of this series, and its sale still continues to be very 
great. It was not given to Sir "Walter Scott to see the 
complete restoration of his former position ; his exer- 
tions were too severe, and pressed heavily on the 
springs of health, already deprived by age of their elas- 
ticity and vigor. In the short space of six years he had, 
by his sacrifices and exertions, discharged more than 
two-thirds of the debt for which he was responsible, 
and he had fair prospects of relieving himself from the 
entire. But in 1831 he was seized with a terrible 



294 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

attack of paralysis, to which his family had a constitu- 
tional tendency, and he was advised to try the effect of 
a more genial climate in Southern Europe. The 
British government placed a ship at his disposal, to 
convey him to Italy ; and, when he came to London, 
men of eveiy class and party vied with each other in 
expressing sympathy for his sufferings and hopes for 
his recovery. 

In Italy he was received with the greatest enthu- 
siasm, and under the influence of its sunny skies he 
seemed, for a while, to be gathering strength. But his 
heart was in his own home at Abbotsford, and his long- 
ings to return began manifestly to affect his health. 
The heat of the weather and the rapidity with which 
he traveled, brought on another shock, which reduced 
him to a state of deplorable imbecility. In this con- 
dition he was brought back to his own haUs, where the 
sight of early friends, and of the beautiful scenery, the 
creation as it were of his own hands, seemed to revive 
a gleam of his former spirit. But the hopes which this 
partial recovery inspired proved ti-ansitory ; he gradu- 
ally sunk into total insensibility. To his situation might 
be applied the exquisite verses which he wrote himself 
on another melancholy occasion : — 

" Yet not the landscape, to mine eye, 

Bears those bright hues that once it bore ; 
Though evening, with her richest dye, 
Flames o'er the hills of Ettrick's shore. 

With listless look along the plain, 

I see Tweed's silver current glide, 
And coldly mark the holy fane 

Of Melrose rise in ruined pride. 

The quiet lake, the balmy air, 
The hill, the stream, the tower, the tree ; 

Aire they still such as once they were, 
Or is the dreary change in me ?" 

Providence, in its mercy, did not suffer the shattered 
frame long to outlive the glorious spirit by which it had 
been animated. Sir Walter Scott breathed his last on 
the 20th of September, 1832. His remains were de- 
posited, as he had always desired, in the hoary Abbey 
of Dryburgh ; and the pilgi-im from mr.ny a distant 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 295 

-sbrifte shall repair to the ts^efe-Vhich his remains have 
consecrated, so long as the reverence for exalted genius 
and worth shall survive in the human heart. 

The leading quality in Sir Walter Scott's character 
was energy : in his youth, it enabled him to triumph 
over lameness, and to become conspicuous in athletic 
exercises; in mature age, it enabled him to triumph 
over the difficulties which beset any of the varied 
enterprises in which he engaged. Everything around 
him was the creation of his own individual exertions, 
and he not only framed the general project, but super- 
intended the most minute details. His heart over- 
flowed with benevolence and kindly feelings, and this 
precious quality rendered him even more delightful in 
the social circle than his exalted intellect. No man 
had a higher sense of honor; it was with him a realiza- 
tion of the fabled principle of chivalry ; and akin to this 
were his feelings of loyalty, which more than bordered 
on the romantic. 

His religion was shown in his daily practice of Chris- 
tian charity, and in the reverence which he everywhere 
testifies for the tniths of Revelation. His intellectual 
qualities need not be described ; they are embodied in 
a series of works, known as extensively, and likely to 
live as long, as our language. 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 



It was said, by an ancient moralist, that Prudence 
alone can render men independent of the chances and 
accidents of fortune ; on the other hand, the lives of 
many men eminent for their genius, their abilities, and 
their acquirements, contain sad proofs that indiscretion 
and habits of self-indulgence may frustrate the noblest 
gifts of nature, and render useless the best opportuni- 
ties for advancement. It is a melancholy but instruc- 
tive task to contemplate the spectacle of gi'eat minds 
enslaved by habits, imperceptibly formed, easy to be 
conquered in the beginning, but finally acquiring such 
strength from indulgence as to be almost in-esistible. 
Such habits have been compared by an eminent writer 
to the chains with which the Lilliputians, in Swift's 
celebrated romance, bound Gulliver down to the earth. 
He could have easily broken each fetter separately, but 
their united force manacled him in every limb. The 
impressive lesson to be learned from such a spectacle is, 
the necessity of subduing bad habits by early resistance, 
and of training that strength of mind which, by resisting 
temptations in youth, secures the firmness of character, 
which is the brightest ornament and best support of 
mature age. To the want of such training must be 
ascribed the unequal life, and the unhappy end of the 
most brilliant orator of the past generation ; and hence, 
while we reverently pay homage to the lofty eloquence, 
the brilliant wit, and the kindly affections of Sheridan, 
we must not shrink from exposing those delinquencies 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 297 

and failings, which rendered such noble qualities un- 
profitable to the public and unavailing to the possessor. 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan was boi-n in Dublin, 
September, 1751 ; his grandfather had been the friend 
of Swift ; his father, on the stage, was regarded as a 
worthy rival of Garrick, but toward the close of his life 
he devoted himself to literary pursuits, and published 
several valuable works on subjects connected with edu- 
cation. Mrs. Sheridan was a woman of considerable 
talents, and wrote some tales of very great and ac- 
knowledged merit. In his earlier years, however, 
Sheridan gave little promise of the excellence to which 
he subsequently attained ; at Mr. Whyte's school in 
Dublin he was regarded as little better than a dunce. 
When his parents removed to England, Sheridan was 
sent to Harrow school, where the celebrated Dr. Parr 
was, at that time, one of the under-masters. This 
eminent scholar and divine discovered, under all the 
indolence and carelessness of Sheridan, the great talents 
which he possessed, and, in conjunction with the head- 
master. Dr. Sumner, endeavored to rouse him to a 
consciousness of his powers. In this benevolent effort 
these excellent teachers to some extent succeeded ; but 
unfortunately the regularity of habits necessary for 
study were alien to the disposition of the young man's 
mind. After leaving Harrow, Sheridan received some 
further instruction at home, and about the same time he 
formed a kind of literary partnership with Halhed, 
afterward a judge in India. Many works were pro- 
jected by these youthful adventurers, but none appears 
to have been completed except a translation of the 
" Epistles of Aristoenetus," an author of little merit, 
who wrote in the declining age of ancient literature. 
The translation was written in a florid, not to say turgid 
style, and found little favor with the public. 

At Bath, whither Mr. Sheridan had removed with his 
family, the young Sheridans became acquainted with the 
fascinating Miss Linley, who soon engaged the affections 
of Richard, and also of his brother. Many suitors com- 
peted for this lady's hand, but Richard Sheridan was 
destined to win the prize ; he persuaded her to elope 
with him to France, where they were privately mar- 



298 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

lied by a Catholic priest, in March, 1772. This act of 
iiTiprudence was soon followed by a duel with Captain 
Matthews, who, though a married man, had made im- 
proper advances to the lady. The combatants, dissat- 
isfied with the result, fought a second time, and Sheri- 
dan was severely wounded. This led to the discovery 
of the secret marriage with Miss Linley ; the lady 
having called him her " husband" when first she heard 
of his danger. The parents on both sides were averse 
to the union, but finally yielded to the ardent supplica- 
tions of the young people ; on the 13th of April, 1773, 
they were remanied according to the English ritual, 
and though their income was precarious and slender, 
Sheridan would not allow his wife to increase it by 
continuing in her profession as a singer. 

In Januaiy, 1775, Sheridan's comedy of the " Rivals" 
was produced at Covent Garden, and though at first 
unsuccessful, it soon rose to the highest rank in public 
favor. He now looked forward to obtaining fame and 
fortune as a dramatist ; he produced the clever fai'ce of 
" St. Patrick's Day," and the opera of the " Duenna," 
one of the best operas in the English language, com- 
bining in an unrivaled degree the merits of legitimate 
comedy, with the attractions of poetry and song. The 
music of this opera was composed by Mr. Linley. In 
1776, Sheridan bought a share in Druiy-lane Theati'e, 
for 10,000Z., but how he contrived to raise this large 
sum is an impenetrable mystery. In the following year 
he produced his " School for Scandal," the best comedy 
in our language, and its triumphant success equally 
contributed to his fame and fortune. Soon aftei-ward 
he became reconciled to his father, who had been slow 
to forgive his imprudent marriage ; the elder Sheridan 
became, in consequence, the manager of the theatre, 
which was much benefited by his experience. 

Mr. Sheridan's first appearance before the public as 
a politician was in conjunction with Mr. Fox, as an ad- 
vocate of parliamentary reform. He was chau'man of 
the sub-committee which framed the famous resolutions 
on the State of Representation set forth by the Re- 
formers of "Westminster, in 1780. When Parliament 
was dissolved, at the close of that year, he became a 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 299 

candidate for the borough of Stafford, and was elected 
to serve in the new Parliament, which met in the fol- 
lowing October. His first speech was delivered on the 
20th of November, 1780, when a petition was presented 
against the return of himself and his colleague. The 
impression produced by his first essay in oratory does 
not appear to have been very favorable, and Mr. Moore 
supplies an anecdote on the subject, which deserves to 
be extracted. 

" It was on this night, as Woodfall used to relate, 
that Mr. Sheridan, after he had spoken, came up to 
him in the gallery, and asked, with much anxiety, what 
he thought of his first attempt. The answer of Wood- 
fall, as he had the courage afterward to own, was, ' I 
am sorry to say I do not think that this is in your line ; 
you had much better have stuck to your former pur- 
suits.' On hearing which, Sheridan rested his head 
upon his hand for a few minutes, and then vehe- 
mently exclaimed, ' It is in me, however, and it shall 
come out.' " 

In the great struggle, which ended in the breaking up 
of Lord North's ministry, and the consequent termi- 
nation of the American war, Sheridan did not take a 
prominent or distinguished share ; but, nevertheless, on 
the formation of the Rockingham administration, he was 
appointed one of the under-secretaries of state. After 
the death of Lord Rockingham, when Mr. Fox quitted 
office in consequence of Lord Shelburne becoming 
premier, Sheridan also resigned his situation, though his 
circumstances could ill afford such a sacrifice. He dis- 
approved of Mr. Fox's coahtion with Lord North, fore- 
seeing the injury that Fox's character would sustain 
from an alliance with one whom he had often denounced 
as a public enemy ; but in the administration that was 
forced upon the court by the parliamentary strength of 
the coahtion, he took the post of one of the secretaries 
to the Treasury, and was the chief organ of the gov- 
ernment in the discussion of financial questions. In the 
life of Mr. Fox we have given full details of the India 
Bill, on which his ministry made shipwreck. Sheridan 
was more fortunate than many of his associates, for at 
the general election, when so many of Mr. Fox's friends 



300 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

were defeated, he was a second time returned for the 
borough of Stafford. 

The calm security into which Mr. Pitt's administra- 
tion had settled, after the gi-eat rout of their opponents 
at the general election, left but little to excite the activity 
of party spirit, or call for the exertion of eloquence. 
But in 1786, Burke's charges against Warren Hastings 
opened as wide a field for display as the most versatile 
icilent could requu-e. On this occasion Sheridan availed 
himself of the opportunity to exhibit greater powers of 
oratory, than have ever before or since been witnessed 
in a British House of Commons. On the 7th of Feb- 
ruary, 1786, he opened the charge against Hastings, 
founded on his treatment of the Begums, princesses of 
Oude, from whom money was said to have been forced, 
by the disgi-aceful expedient of torturing their favorite 
domestics. The effects of the speech were unexam- 
pled ; Mr. Buriie declared it to " be the most astonish- 
ing effect of eloquence, argument, and wit united, of 
which there w^as any record or tradition." Mr. Fox 
said, " all that he had ever heard, all that he had ever 
read, when compared with it, dwindled into nothing, 
and vanished like vapor before the sun ;" — and Mr. Pitt 
acknowledged that it surpassed all the eloquence of an- 
cient and modern times, and possessed everything that 
genius or ait could furnish to agitate or conti'ol the hu- 
man mind." Sir W. Dolben went farther ; he moved 
an adjournment of the debate, declaring that in the state 
of mind in which Mr. Sheridan's speech had left him, 
it was impossible for him to give a determinate opinion. 
This motion was supported by other members, and 
adopted ; Mr. Pitt declaring that it was impossible to 
exercise reason freely " while under the wand of the 
enchanter." The meager and inadequate report that 
has been presei-ved of this celebrated speech, contains 
few passages worthy of its fame, and even these have 
been sadly mangled by the reporter. We shall not, 
therefore, make any exti'act from it, especially as it was 
soon to be surpassed by the only person who could sur- 
pass it, Sheridan himself. As one of the managers se- 
lected by the Plouse of Commons, he had to go over the 
same ground when impeaching Warren Hastings before 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. ' 301 

the House of Lords. For four days he astonished the 
house with an unbroken sti^eam of eloquence, equally- 
varied and magnificent. " No holy religionist," said 
Burke,. " no man of any description, of a literary char- 
acter, could have come up, in the one instance, to the 
pure sentiments of morality, or in the other, to the va- 
riety of knowledge, force of imagination, propriety and 
vivacity of allusion, beauty and elegance of expression, 
to which they had that day listened. From poetry up 
to eloquence, there was not a species of composition of 
which a complete and perfect specimen might not have 
been culled, from one part or the other of the speech to 
which he alluded, and which he was persuaded had left 
too strong and deep an impression on the house, to be 
obliterated." We extract one passage — his delineation 
of the power of filial afifection, regretting that our hmits 
will not allow us to add more. 

"When I see in many of these letters the infirmities 
of age made a subject of mockery and ridicule ; when I 
see the feelings of a son treated by Mr. Middleton as 
puerile and contemptible ; when I see an order given 
from Mr. Hastings to harden that son's heart, to choke 
the struggling nature in his bosom; when I see them 
pointing to the son's name, and to his standard while 
marching to oppress the mother, as to a banner that 
gives dignity, that gives a holy sanction and a reverence 
to their enterprise ; when I see and hear these done — 
when I hear them brought into three deliberate defences 
set up against the Charges of the Commons — my lords, 
I own I grow puzzled and confounded, and almost begin 
to doubt whether, where such a defence can be offered, 
it may not be tolerated. 

" And yet, my lords, how can I support the claim of 
filial love by argument — much less the aflt'ection of a son 
to a mother — where love loses its awe, and veneration 
is mixed with tenderness ? What can I say upon such 
a subject? what can I do but repeat the ready truths 
which, with the quick impulse of the mind, must spring 
to the lips of every man on such a theme ? Filial Love ! 
the morality of instinct, the sacrament of nature and 
duty ! or rather let me say, it is miscalled a duty, for it 
flows from the heart without efltort, and is its delight, 
Cc 



302 • MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

its indulgence, its enjoyment. It is guided not by the 
slow dictates of reason ; it awaits not encouragement 
from reflection or fi'om thought ; it asks no aid of mem- 
ory ; it is an innate but active consciousness of having 
been the object of a thousand tender solicitudes, a thou- 
sand waking, watchful cares, of meek anxiety and pa- 
tient sacrifices, unremarked and unrequited by the ob- 
ject. 

"It is a gratitude founded upon a conviction of obli- 
gations, not remembered, but the more binding because 
not remembered — because conferred before the tender 
reason could acknowledge, or the infant memory record 
them — a gratitude and affection which no circumstances 
should subdue, and which few can strengthen ; a gi*ati- 
tude in which even injury from the object, though it 
may blind regi-et, should never breed resentment ; an 
affection which can be increased only by the decay of 
those to whom we owe it, and which is then most fer- 
vent when the ti'emulous voice of age, resistless in its 
feebleness, inquires for the natural protector of its cold 
decline. 

" If these are the general sentiments of man, what 
must be their depravity — ^what must be their degene- 
racy, who can blot out and erase from the bosom of vir- 
tue that is deepest rooted in the human heart, and 
twined within the cords of life itself? — aliens from na- 
ture, apostates from humanity ? And yet, if there is a 
crime more full, more foul — if there is anything worse 
than a wilful persecutor of his mother — it is to see a de- 
liberate reasoning instigator and abettor to the deed. 
This it is that shocks, disgusts, and appalls the mind, 
more than the other; to view, not a wilful parricide, 
but a parricide by compulsion — a miserable wq-etch, not 
actuated by the stubborn evils of his own worthless 
heart — not driven by the fury of his own disti'acted 
brain — but lending his sacrilegious hand, without any 
malice of his own, to answer the abandoned purposes of 
the human fiends that have subdued his will ! To con- 
demn crimes like these, we need not talk of laws or of 
human rules ; iheir foulness, their deformity, does not 
depend upon local constitutions, upon human institu- 
tions, or upon religious creeds : they are crimes, and 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 303 

the persons who perpetrate them are monsters, who 
violate the primitive condition upon which the earth was 
given to man — they are guilty by the general verdict of 
human kind." 

In the impeachment of Warren Hastings, Sheridan 
touched the highest point of all his greatness ; previous 
to that time he had been taken into the confidence of the 
Prince of Wales, and had appeared as the advocate, or 
rather agent of his Royal Highness, on more than one 
delicate occasion in the House of Commons. When the 
alarming illness of George III., in 1788, rendered it ne- 
cessary to provide for a regency, Sheridan vehemently 
supported the claims of the prince to an unrestricted 
power ; but he did not share in the hopes of his asso- 
ciates that the regency would be permanent ; and hence 
he did not feel much disappointment at the recovery of 
the king. 

The gay and thoughtless life which Sheridan led, his 
utter disregard of pecuniary matters, and his negligence 
in all affairs of business, involved him in embarrassments 
which every year became more onerous and gi'ievous. 
It was impossible that this should be kept secret, and 
the knowledge of his improvidence greatly diminished 
his authority with the public. When he took a part 
favorable to the French Revolution, and to the cause of 
Reform in England, he found himself separated from 
many friends to whom he had become attached, and ex- 
posed to coarse imputations on the rashness that results 
from broken fortunes. At this crisis he lost his be- 
loved and amiable wife ; and this sad event, followed by 
the death of his favorite daughter, seems to have fre- 
quently tempted him into the dangerous haunts of dissi- 
pation, in order to escape from painful reflections. His 
opposition to the policy of Mr. Pitt was continued du- 
ring the war to the peace of Amiens, but though some of 
his speeches were noble specimens of eloquence, the 
topics to which they refer have now but little interest. 

In 1795, Sheridan was man-ied a second time : the 
lady to whom he was united was Miss Ogle ; she was 
young, accomplished, and fondly attached to him, and 
her influence saved him for a time from tliose perilous 
indulgences to which he was too prone to yield. In 



304 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

this same year, the rigorous policy adopted by the gov- 
ernment appears to have excited greater vehemence 
and violence in the opposition. Sheridan sometimes 
used imprudent expressions, which gave alarm to the 
friends of order, and which were deemed too strong 
even by his own friends. But he nobly retrieved this 
error by his pati'iotic conduct during the formidable 
mutiny at the Nore. On this occasion he came forward 
and urged the ministry to adopt the most prompt and 
vigorous measures, avowing himself ready to share any 
obloquy which might result from such an exertion of 
authority. From this time, though he continued in 
opposition, his hostility to the measures of the adminis- 
tration appears to have abated. He severely censured 
their policy with regard to Ireland ; he was adverse to 
the Union with Ireland ; but he attacked the mode in 
which the war was conducted rather than the war itself. 
His revived popularity was, however, mainly owing to 
his earnest anxiety for maintaining the naval supremacy 
of England. The British nation has ever been jealous 
of the honors of its flag on the ocean, and Sheridan was 
deeply imbued with this popular feeling. He may be 
said to have spoken the sentiments of all England when 
he declared, " If we are threatened to be deprived of 
that which is the charter of our existence, which has 
procured us the commerce of the world, and been the 
means of spreading our glory over every land — if the 
rights and honors of our flag are to be called in question, 
every risk should be i"un, and every danger braved. 
Then we should have a legitimate cause of war ; then 
the heart of every Briton would burn with indignation, 
and his hand stretched forth in the seiTice of his coun- 
tiy. If our flag is to be insulted, let us nail it to the 
topmast of the nation ; there let it fly while we shed 
the last drop of our blood in protecting it ; and let it be 
degraded only when the nation itself is overwhelmed." 
A little before this he had taken some part in bringing 
the German dramas of the Sti-anger and Pizarro on the 
English stage. The patriotic sentiments he had put 
into the mouth of Rolla, in the latter piece, had some 
effect in strengthening the determination of the English 
people to resist the menaced invasion of France ; and 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 305 

this result, which was not, perhaps, intended, not a little 
contributed to give him a high place in public favor. 

But this change in Sheridan's policy tended to sever 
him from Mr. Fox, with whom he also differed on the 
propriety of supporting Mr. Addington's feeble admin- 
istration. Sheridan, however, showed that he was dis- 
interested in his support of this ministry ; for he re- 
fused a lucrative situation which the Earl of St. Vincent 
offered to his son. In the lives of Mr. Fox and Mr. 
Pitt will be found an ample account of the ministerial 
changes of this period ; and we need here only say, that 
Sheridan had now become so dependent on the Prince 
of Wales as to have somewhat shaken the confidence 
hitherto reposed in his steadiness of principle. When 
Mr. Fox was about to present the Catholic petition from 
Ireland, which he did on the 10th of May, 1805, Sheri- 
dan, at the desire of the prince, ineffectually endeavored 
to dissuade him ; and this was, probably, one of the 
causes of that alienation between the two friends which 
they vainly labored to conceal from each other. When 
the death of Mr. Pitt led to the formation of the Fox 
and Grenville administration, Sheridan returned to his 
^Id subordinate office of Treasurer of the Navy, though 
he probably expected to have been offered a seat in the 
cabinet. After Mr. Fox's death, Sheridan continued to 
sei-ve under Lords Grey and Grenville, until their ad- 
ministration was abruptly terminated by the king, who 
was displeased by the concessions they proposed to the 
Catholics. From this time his political career under- 
went a sad change ; his old associates suspected him of 
insincerity, and he was not in a position to acquire new 
friends. Public opinion had long identified the Prince 
of Wales with the Whig party, though he had seceded 
from it during the revolutionary war, and had shown 
anything but cordiality toward those who became its 
leaders after the death of Mr. Fox. Twice, however, 
negotiations were opened for forming a ministry by the 
aid of that party ; and on both occasions Sheridan was 
blamed as the chief cause of the failure of these attempts. 
These ministerial intrigues belong more to history than 
to biography, and we willingly pass them over in silence. 

On the 24th of February, 1801), Dinry-lane Thea- 
20 c c 2 



306 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

tre, in which Sheridan had so deep an interest pledged, 
was burned to the ground. He was in the House of 
Commons, intending to speak in the debate of that night, 
when the sudden hlaze of hght alarmed the members. 
When the cause was discovered, such sympathy was 
felt for his calamity, that it was proposed the House 
should be adjourned. He then, exhibiting memorable 
dignity and calmness, said, " Whatever might be the 
extent of the private calamity, he hoped it would not 
interfere with the public business of the country :" then, 
quitting the house, he proceeded to Drury-lane, and 
witnessed, Avith a fortitude which strongly interested all 
who observed him, the entire desti'uction of his projv 
eity. 

By the active exertions of Mr. Whitbread, a commit- 
tee was formed for the rebuilding of Drury-lane The- 
ati-e, and liberal arrangeinents were made to secure the 
rights of Mr. Sheridan to his share of the profits of the 
patent. The payment, however, was not to be made 
until the building was completed ; but the mere likeli- 
hood of a sum of money being placed at his disposal, 
stimulated all his creditors to assert their claims, which 
he was utterly unable to meet. Then began the last 
hard struggle of pride and delicacy against the most 
deadly foe of both — pecuniary involvement — "which 
thus gathers round its victims, fold after fold, till they 
are at length crushed in its inextricable grasp." On the 
dissolution of Parliament in 1812, he lost his seat for 
the borough of Stafford, and was no longer protected 
from arrest by his privilege. 

His distresses now increased every day, and it is a 
painful task to follow him through the short remainder 
of his melancholy life. The sum arising from the sale 
of his theatrical property was soon exhausted by the 
various claims upon it, and he was driven to part with 
his books and furniture, to satisfy further demands and 
provide for the subsistence of the day. In the spring of 
1815 he was arrested and carried to a spunging-house, 
where he was detained two or three days ; from the 
effects of this shock, so galling to his feelings, he never 
recovered ; he was attacked by a disease of the stomach, 
partly producod by irregular living, and partly by the 



RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 307 

harassing anxieties that perpetually beset him. While 
death was gaining fast upon him, the miseries of his life 
were thickening around him also ; nor did the last corner 
in which he now lay down to die, afford him any asylum 
from the clamors of his legal pursuers. Writs and exe- 
cutions came in rapid succession, and bailiffs at length 
gained possession of his house. A sheriff's oflficer finally 
arrested the dying man in his bed, and was about to carry 
him off, in his blankets, to a spunging-house, when Dr. 
Bain interfered, and by threatening the officer with the 
responsibility he must incur, if, as was but too probable, 
his prisoner should expire on the way, averted this 
outrage. 

Soon after, an article appeared in the "Morning Post," 
calling the attention of the public to the disti-essed con- 
dition of Sheridan ; it produced a strong sensation, and 
many of his old associates, including the noblest of the 
land, called to make inquiries and express sympathy. 
But it was now too late : his case had already become 
hopeless, and, after lingering on a few days, he died 
July 7th, 1816, in the sixty-fifth year of his age. 

Seldom has there been such an array of rank as hia 
funeral : princes of the blood royal, nobles of every rank 
in the peerage, and high officers of state, followed his 
remains to his tomb in Westminster Abbey. This con- 
trast of respect to the dead and neglect of the dying was 
severely rebuked by Mr. Moore, in the monody which 
he published on the occasion : — 

" Oh ! it sickens the heart to see bosoms so hollow, 
And friendship so false in the great and high-born ; 
To think that a long list of titles may follow 
The relics of him who died friendless and lorn. 

How proud they can press to the funeral array 

Of him whom they shunn'd in his sickness and sorrow ; 

How bailiffs may seize his last blanket to-day, 
Whose pall shall be held up by nobles to-morrow." 

We cannot close this part of our task without endeav- 
oring earnestly to impress on the minds of young readers 
the impressive example which this history affords of the 
ruin resulting from thoughtlessness and dissipation. Had 
his mind been subjected to the discinline of a profes- 



308 MODERN BRiTJSH PLUTARCH. 

sion, the regularity which it imposes might have infused 
some spirit of order into his life. But a Avant of order 
made him insensible to the amount of extravagance in 
which he indulged, until his pecuniaiy embarrassments 
became tpo great for him to endure, or his friends to 
relieve. Yet there is reason to believe that had he, at 
any time, fairly looked his difficulties in the face, his 
extrication would not have been impossible ; but he had 
given way to habits of indolence and indulgence which 
rendered any application to business almost an impossi- 
bility. 



JOHN SMEATON. 



Most of our readers are aware that the chief clangers 
to which sailors are exposed are found on coasts, and not 
in the open sea : rocks, shoals, and quicksands, are far 
more perilous than the ocean ; while a vessel can run 
before the wind, the storm rarely does more evil than 
drive her from her course ; but when she runs ashore, 
and is held fast to bear the brunt of its fury, her destruc- 
tion is all but inevitable. Hence in early ages it was 
customary to light beacon-fires along the most frequent- 
ed coasts, and these were usually kindled on the tops of 
lofty towers, which served the double purpose of sea- 
marks and of temples of the gods. In the middle ages 
it was customary to endow a monastery with lands, on 
condition of maintaining a beacon on some dangerous 
spot. The remains of several of these towers may be 
found on various parts of the English and Irish coast ; 
the most perfect is near Youghal, in the county of Cork ; 
it was maintained at the expense of a nunnery in the 
neighborhood. Since the Reformation, the system of 
light-houses in England has been left, in a great degi'ee, 
to private enterprise and speculation, though the chief 
management of them was enti'usted to the corporation 
of the Trinity House. A recent act of Parliament pro- 
vides for the final vesting of the light-houses of the Brit- 
ish Islands in this corporate body, and thus putting an 
end to the anomalies which arose from patents and leases 
granted to individuals. 

The Eddystone rocks, about fourteen miles in a south- 
ern direction from the harbor of Plymouth, are situated 



310 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

in the immediate ti-ack of ships coasting up and down 
the British Channel ; hence they were extremely dan- 
gerous, and even fatal, to ships previous to the erection 
of a light-house. But difficulties, long deemed insuper- 
able, prevented the erection of the necessary edifice ; 
the only rock admitting of such a structure was so shaped 
as to render the foundation insecure, and to expose the 
work to overflowings of the sea, and the heavy storms 
so common in the Channel prevent communication with 
the land during a great part of the year. 

In 1696, Mr. Henry Winstanley, of Littlebury, in 
Essex, proffered his services to erect a beacon on the 
Eddystone ; the offer was accepted ; and, after the toil of 
four years, a structure was completed, which seemed to 
possess sufficient stability. Winstanley himself was so 
confident of its safety, that he expressed a wish to be in 
it "during the greatest storm that ever blew out of the 
heavens." His wish was fatally gratified. On the night 
of the 26th of November, 1703, the south of England 
was visited by the most terrific storm recorded in our 
annals. When the following morning dawned, it was 
found that Winstanley, his attendants, and his boasted 
structure had entirely disappeared. 

A second light-house was erected by Mr. Rudyard, 
who had been originally a silk-mercer, and was com- 
pleted in 1709. Unfortunately, it was for the most part 
built of wood, which, from constant exposure to the heat 
of fires and lamps, became as ignitable as tinder. On 
the 2d of September, 1755, it took fire, and was burned 
to the gi'ound. 

Application was made to the Royal Society to recom- 
mend a person proper to be entrusted with the recon- 
struction of an edifice of such national importance, and 
the Earl of Macclesfield, the president of that body, rec- 
ommended Mr. John Smeaton, who, though not a pro- 
fessional architect, had highly distinguished himself in 
various branches of mechanics. 

Mr. John Smeaton, the son of a country attorney, 
was born at a little village in Yorkshire, May 28th, 1724. 
Even in infancy he showed a strong taste for mechan- 
ical pursuits, having constructed the model of a wind- 
mill and a pump before he had attained his sixth year. 



JOHN SMEATON, 311 

As he grew up he constructed a lathe and a complete 
set of tools, with which he worked in wood, ivory, and 
metals, producing not merely toys, but various pieces of 
mechanism, which in his day were wonders of ingenu- 
ity. His father, however, was anxious to educate him 
for the law, and sent him to London, where he attended 
court during a few terms ; but finding the legal profes- 
sion distasteful, he remonstrated with his father, and 
received permission to follow "the natural bent of his 
genius." 

In 1758 he commenced business as a manufacturer 
of philosophical instruments ; he invented several inge- 
nious machines, particularly one for measuring a ship's 
way at sea, and a compass of as peculiar construction ; he 
even made two voyages to test the efficacy of those in- 
struments. His reputation procured his admission to 
the Royal Society in 1758, and in 1759 he obtained a 
gold medal from that body, for his experiments on wheels 
turned by wind or water, the gi'eat motive powers before 
the properties of steam were known. 

His greatest work was the Eddystone light-house, 
which he commenced in August, 1756. The principle 
on which he went was, that the building should be 
weighty and solid. The blocks of stone employed in 
the foundation were, therefore, enormous masses of 
from one to two tons each, dove-tailed into the rock and 
into each other ; the courses over these were similarly 
dove-tailed and further secured by wedges and cement, 
so that up to the fourteenth course the whole formed a 
compact mass as solid as the rock itself. On this foun- 
dation the circular tower was commenced. Each course 
of the wall was made of a single block in thickness, six- 
teen of which completed the circuit of the edifice. All 
the resources of dynamics were exhausted in securing 
the connection of these blocks and preventing the dan- 
gers arising from lateral pressure, and these succeeded 
so perfectly that the hollow part of the edifice became as 
firm and as secure as the solid. The iron work for the 
balcony rails, lantern, cupola, &c., was wrought and put 
up under Smeaton's personal superintendence, and on 
the 16th of October, 1759, a light was once more exhib- 
ited on the Eddystone rock, and has not since been in- 



312 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

lerrupted. For many years after its erection, the Eddy- 
stone was eagerly watched after every storm, but no 
one now entertains the slightest doubt of its stability. 

In 1764 he was appointed one of the receivers to the 
forfeited estates of the unfortunate Earl of Derwent- 
water, the revenues of which had been granted to Green- 
wich Hospital. A great part of this property consists 
of lead mines. Smeaton introduced many gi'eat im- 
provements into the mode of working the mines and 
smelting the ore, so that when the increase of his busi- 
ness as an engineer induced him to resign his appoint- 
ment, the Commissioners of the Hospital eagerly urged 
him to continue his services. The importance of the 
many pubhc works in which he was engaged, compelled 
him to quit this office ; the chief of these are thus enu- 
merated by one of his biographers : — 

" He completed the erection of new light-houses at 
Spurn Head at the mouth of the Humber : he built 
the fine bridge over the Tay at Perth : he laid out the 
line of the gi-eat canal connecting the Forth and Clyde ; 
and made the river Calder navigable ; a work that re- 
quired great skill and judgment on account of its impetu- 
ous floods. On the opening of the gi-eat arch at London 
Bridge by throwing tw^o arches into one, and the re- 
moval of a large pier, the excavation around and under 
the starlings was so considerable, that the bridge was 
thought to be in gi-eat danger of falling. Smeaton was 
then in Yorkshire, but was sent for by express, and ar- 
rived with the utmost dispatch : on his arrival the fear 
that the bridge was about to fall prevailed so generally, 
that few persons would pass over or under it. Smeaton 
applied iiimself immediately to examine it, and to sound 
about the starlings as minutely as possible : his advice 
to the committee was to purchase the stones which 
had been taken from the middle pier, then lying in 
Moorfields, and to throw them into the river to guard 
the starlings. This advice was adopted with the utmost 
alacrity, by which simple means, the bridge was proba- 
bly saved from falling, and time afforded for securing it 
in a more effectual manner. » This method of stopping 
the impetuous ravages of water,' says Mr. Holmes, 'he 
had practiced with success on the river Calder ; and on 



JOHN SMEATON. 313 

my calling on him in the neighborhood of Wakefield, 
he showed me the effects of a great flood, which had 
made a considerable passage over the land ; this he 
stopped at the bank of the river, by throwing in a quan- 
tity of large rough stones, which with the sand and other 
materials washed down by the river, filling up their in- 
terstices, had become a barrier to keep the river in its 
usual course.' " 

In 1771, Mr. Smeaton, in partnership with Mr. Holmes, 
purchased the works by which Greenwich and Deptford 
are supphed with water. The former proprietors had 
lost money by the concern, but under Smeaton's man- 
agement it became so lucrative as to insure him not 
only a competency, but fortune. His fame was so 
thoroughly established, that no great works were under- 
taken until he was consulted ; his advice was frequently 
sought by Parliament, and his authority on disputed 
points of mechanism was received with deference in 
courts of law. One of his last public services was the 
completion of the pier and harbor of Ramsgate, which 
affords a very needful place of shelter in the Downs. 

Early in life Smeaton atti'acted the notice of the ec- 
centric Duke and Duchess of Queen sbury, on account 
of his personal likeness to their favorite poet Gay. 
They sought his acquaintance, and continued their 
friendship to him during their lives. This was the 
more remarkable, as they were fond of high play, while 
Smeaton detested gambhng in every shape and form. 

On one occasion the stakes were already high, and it 
fell to Smeaton to double them, when, neglecting to 
deal the cards, he was busily occupied in making some 
calculations on paper, which he placed upon the table. 
The duchess asked eagerly what it was, and Smeaton 
replied coolly, " You will recollect, the field in which 
my house stands may be about five acres, three roods, 
and seven perches, which, at thirty years' purchase, 
will be just my stake ; and if your gi-ace will make a 
duke of me, I presume the winner will not disfike my 
mortgage." The joke and the lesson had their effect, 
for they never played again but for the merest trifle. 

Smeaton had long intended to prepare a memoir of 
his hfe and public services, but the works in which he 
Dn 



314 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

was engaged prevented him from finding time to use 
tlie pen. The only part of his project which he was 
able to execute was his account of the erection of the 
Eddystone light-house, which is still consulted as a val- 
uable authority by architects and engineers. Early in 
September, 1792, he was attacked by paralysis, the re- 
sult of over exertion, and under this disease he sunk on 
the 28th of the following month, in the sixty-ninth year 
of his age. 

Since the days of Smeaton, the progress of mechani- 
cal invention has been so rapid, that many of his great- 
est improvements have now become antiquated. It is 
not generally known that he contributed largely to the 
improvement of the steam-engine, though his fame has 
been eclipsed by the brilliant discoveries of Watt. Since 
his time little addition has been made to the efficiency 
of the water-wheel, though water-power is as extensively 
used as steam in the manufacturing districts. Cultivated 
habits of observation and persevering industry were the 
great elements of Smeaton's success : they were formed 
in his boyhood, and were not abandoned in his old age. 



JAMES WATT. 



A LIFE of Study and of labor presents few striking 
incidents or adventures ; the details of what has passed 
in the library or the laboratory have little variety, and 
almost as little interest, except when their scientific re- 
sults are explained for men of science. But the arts of 
peace have their heroes and conquerors, as well as the 
arts of war, — heroes, whose achievements are effected 
without bloodshed, — conquerors, whose ti'iumphs have 
left no miseiy behind. The steam-engine has become 
one of the most important elements in modern civiliza- 
tion ; it performs the rudest labor, and perfects the finest 
work ; it twists the cable that will hold a man-of-war, 
and spins a thread as fine as the web of gossamer ; it 
forges the largest anchor, and polishes the finest needle ; 
it impels large vessels over the ocean, in spite of wind 
or tide, and draws heavy trains of carriages over land, 
with a fleetness exceeding that of the race-horse. Its 
regularity is as remarkable as its powers ; it regulates 
with perfect accuracy and uniformity the number of its 
strokes in a given time, counting or recording them, 
moreover, to tell how much work it has done, as a clock 
records the beats of its pendulum ; it regulates the quan- 
tity of steam admitted to work, the briskness of the fire, 
the supply of water to the boiler, and the supply of coals 
to the fire ; it opens and shuts its valves with perfect 
precision as to time and manner ; it oils its joints ; it 
takes out any air which may accidentally enter into 
parts where there should be a vacuum ; and when any- 
thing goes wrong, which it cannot of itself rectify, it 



316 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

rings a bell, to warn its attendants. Finally, though ex- 
ercising the strength of six hundred horses, it may be 
governed by a child. 

The perfection to which this wondrous mechanism 
and stupendous motive power has attained, must mainly 
be attributed to the intelligence and perseverance of 
James Watt, whose discoveries may be said to have cre- 
ated rather than multiplied an incalculable amount of 
the industrial resources of Great Britain. He supplied 
movement for the machineiy which Arkwiight invented, 
and to the combined efforts of both, are owing the un- 
paralleled extent and unrivaled excellence of British 
textile fabrics. 

James Watt was the son of a respectable merchant 
at Greenock, where he was born June 19th, 1736 ; his 
grandfather and uncle were respectable teachers of math- 
ematics and land-surveyors, professions then united in 
Scotland, as they still are in Ireland. He received a 
good, plain education, including a competent knowledge 
of mathematics, and he early evinced a taste for the 
practical part of mechanics, which he retained to the 
end of his life. Long after he had risen to wealth and 
station he loved to work at the manual exercise of his 
early trade, though he had hundreds of hands ready to 
do his bidding. Soon after he had attained his eigh- 
teenth year he came to London, to obtain instruction in 
the manufacture of mathematical insti'uments ; but he 
had not resided in the metropolis more than a year when 
the state of his health compelled him to return to Scot- 
land. But, limited as was the amount of instruction 
which he received, he had profited by it so largely, that 
in 1757 he was appointed mathematical instrument ma- 
ker to the University of Glasgow, and had a residence 
assigned him in the buildings belonging to that learned 
body. 

Glasgow was at this period the residence of some of 
the most distinguished men of science in the empire. 
Among the professors in its University were Robert 
Simpson, the editor of Euclid's Elements, and one of 
the most eminent mathematicians of his age ; Adam 
Smith, the founder of the science of political economy ; 
and Dr. Black, whose discoveries with respect to latent 



JAMES WATT. 317 

heat, its connection with fluidity, and the phenomena 
that occurred during the processes of boiUng, freezing, 
&c., made a complete revolution in chemical science. 
Similarity of tastes united Watt in close intimacy with 
Black, and he also enjoyed the friendship of Mr. John 
Robinson, then a student, but subsequently known as an 
eminent mathematician and natural philosopher. From 
his constant communication with such men, Watt could 
not fail to derive the most valuable mental discipline, 
while his own taste for practical mechanics induced him 
to subject all their theories to the test of direct exper- 
iment. 

In 1763, Watt removed from the University into the 
city of Glasgow, where he opened a shop as a mathe- 
matical instrument maker, and soon after married his 
cousin, Miss Miller. An accidental circumstance di- 
rected his attention to that series of brilliant inventions 
which have made his name celebrated throughout the 
civilized world. He was employed to repair the work- 
ing model of a steam-engine, constructed on Newco- 
men's principle, for the lectures of the professor in 
natural philosophy. It is necessary to explain the con- 
struction of Newcomen's engine, in order to render 
Watt's improvements intelhgible. The moving jjower 
was the atmospheric pressure on a piston w^orking in a 
cylinder ; the piston was raised by a jet of steam thrown 
into the lower part of the cylinder, and the steam was 
then condensed by a jet of cold water, which, producing 
a vacuum, the piston was forced down by the weight of 
the recumbent air. The disadvantages of this contriv- 
ance were, that there was a great waste of steam when 
the cylinder was cooled down so as to produce a tolera- 
bly perfect vacuum ; and that if it was cooled less thor- 
oughly, the resistance of the uncondensed steam greatly 
weakened the force of the descending stroke : hence, 
any change seemed to offer but a choice of difficulties — a 
waste of steam in raising the piston, or a loss of power 
in its descent. 

Watt soon found that no alteration in the size, shape, 

or material of the cylinder could extricate him from this 

dilemma ; but he saw that one evil, the cooling of the 

cylinder, could be averted if the process of condensation 

D D 2 



318 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

could be conducted in a separate vessel. He soon veri- 
fied this possibility by direct experiment. A communi- 
cation was opened by means of cocks between the cylin- 
der and a distinct vessel, exhausted of its air, so soon as 
the latter was filled with steam, and had consequently 
raised the piston. The vapor, of course, nished in to 
fill up the vacuum, and was condensed in the separate 
vessel either by external cold, or a jet of water, while 
the density of what remained in the cylinder was so 
attenuated as to allow the piston to be again forced down 
by the pressure of the atmosphere. Another advantage 
resulting from this arrangement was, that the process of 
condensation being conducted apart, was brought com- 
pletely under the conti'ol of the engineer, who could 
assign its limits with tolerable accuracy and precision. 
This was Watt's gi'eat and fundamental improvement ; 
it for the first time brought the working of steam under 
complete control. 

Although Watt's inventions were spread over a long 
life, it will be convenient to view them in their connec- 
tion with each other, and we shall endeavor to make 
them as intelligible as possible to those who are not very 
familiar with mechanical science. Newcomen's engine 
was moved partly by steam and partly by air, the for- 
mer raising the piston and the latter in turn forcing it to 
descend. Watt had brought the steam under complete 
command, but atmospheric pressure was beyond his 
control ; it was an invariable power supplied by nature, 
which he could neither increase nor diminish. 

But there was a still greater defect in the atmospheric 
engine, and one which no contrivance could remedy ; 
cold air being admitted into the cylinder at every de- 
scending stroke of the piston, a large quantity of heat was 
abstracted from the piston, and a proportionate quan- 
tity of steam wasted in merely heating it again. Watt 
resolved to get rid of atmospheric pressure altogether, 
and to make steam the sole moving power, and not the 
mere agent in producing a vacuum. This was effected 
by admitting steam into the cylinder alternately above 
and below the piston, thus doubling the power in the 
same space and with the same sti'ength of material. But 
in the application of this principle he had to encounter 



JAMES WATT. 319 

many difficulties, which could only be overcome by a 
practical mechanician ; any defects in the boring of the 
cylinder, or the accurate fitting of the piston, were reme- 
died in Newcomen's engine by pouring in a little water at 
the top, which rendered the piston air-tight, and leakage 
was of little consequence when the process of condensa- 
tion was performed in the cylinder. But in Watt's contriv- 
ance it was necessary to exclude every particle of water 
from the cylinder, and not only to render the piston air- 
tight, but to make it work through an air-tight collar, so 
that no particle of the steam admitted above it should be 
permitted to escape. When this was effected, he added a 
powerful pump to increase the vacuum of the condenser, 
and finally introduced a contrivance to cut off the com- 
munication between the cylinder and the boiler when 
about half the stroke was completed, leaving it to the 
expansive power of steam to perform the rest. By this 
contrivance a great economy of steam, and consequently 
of fuel, was obtained ; and, what was not less important, 
he gained the power of varying the effort of the engine 
according to the work which it has to do, by admitting 
the steam through a greater or smaller portion of the 
stroke. 

These are the chief improvements which Watt intro- 
duced at different periods of his life. There are, how- 
ever, many others which it would be difficult to explain 
to readers who are not intimately and minutely acquaint- 
ed with the sti'ucture of the steam-engine ; we may 
mention, as examples, his contrivance for converting re- 
ciprocal into rotary motion, and his beautiful system of 
parallel motion to supersede the old beam and chain. 

It was not until 1769 that Watt took out a patent for 
his inventions ; his occupations as a civil engineer, which 
were numerous and varied, interfered with his experi- 
ments ; his friends were limited, and he had great diffi- 
culty in finding a person possessed of capital who could 
appreciate the merit of his improvements. At last Dr. 
Roebuck, the proprietor of the Carron iron works in 
Scotland, became his partner in the patent, agreeing to 
find all the capital, on condition of receiving two-thirds 
of the profits. Roebuck, however, was unable to fulfil 
his contract, and in 1774 he resigned his interest to 



320 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

Mr. Matthew Boulton, the proprietor of the Soho iron 
works, near Birmingham. Boulton was as enterprising 
and almost as inventive as Watt himself; he had dis- 
covered a new method of inlaying steel, and this created 
such a demand for his wares, that he had been compelled 
to have recourse to steam-power instead of the water- 
power which he had previously employed. 

Having formed so advantageous a partnership, Watt 
determined to remove to England, a step to which he 
was probably rendered more favorable by the death of 
his wife in 1773. His inventions were soon appreciated, 
and such was the sense entertained of their national 
importance, that Parliament passed an Act prolonging 
his patent rights for twenty-five years, in consideration 
of the difficulty and expense of bringing such compli- 
cated machinery into public notice. 

One of the earliest and one of the most important ap- 
plications of the new steam-engines was to the pumping 
of water upon a large scale, and thus removing the im- 
pediment to the profitable working of some of our most 
valuable mines. It was found, by comparative tnals, 
that the saving of fuel amounted to three-fourths of the 
whole quantity consumed by the engines formerly in use, 
beside the advantage of greater certainty and regularity 
in work. When these facts became known, the new 
machines were introduced into the deep mines of Corn- 
wall, where their merits could be best tested, and their 
efficacy was soon found to surpass the most ardent ex- 
pectations. The patentees received as payment one- 
third of the savings on the fuel, and, in a few years, this 
item was found to yield an enormous income. Like 
Arkwright, Messrs. Boulton and Watt had to maintain 
many harassing contests against infringements of their 
patent rights, but these attacks did not prevent Watt 
from realizing a handsome fortune, with which he es- 
tablished himself at Heathfield, in the county of Staf- 
ford. 

The invention of Watt was fully appreciated by the 
scientific world. In 1785 he was elected a Fellow of the 
Royal Society ; in 1806, the degi-ee of Doctor of Laws 
was conferred upon him by the University of Glasgow ; 
and in 1808, he was chosen a Member of the French 



JAMES WATT. 321 

Institute. His attention was not confined to the steam- 
engine ; he invented a copying machine, for which he 
took out a patent in 1780. In the winter of 1784 he 
erected an apparatus, the first of its kind, for warming 
apartments by steam. He also introduced into England 
the method of bleaching with oxy-muriatic acid or chlo- 
rine, invented and communicated to him for publication 
by his friend Berthollet. 

Toward the conclusion of his life he constructed a 
machine for making fac -similes of busts and other carved 
work ; and also busied himself in forming a composition 
for casts, possessing much of the transparency and hard- 
ness of marble. Though his health had been delicate 
through life, he reached the advanced age of eighty- 
four; he died at Heathfield August 25th, 1819. A 
colossal statue, the work of Chantrey, has been erected 
to his memory in Westminster Abbey. It represents 
Watt seated in deep thought, a pair of compasses in his 
hand, and a scroll on which there is the draught of a 
steam-engine, open on his knee. 

The best account of Watt's private character and do- 
mestic life was published by one of his intimate friends 
in the supplement to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and 
an extract from it will appropriately terminate this brief 
summary of his public services : — 

" To those to whom he more immediately belonged, 
who lived in his society, and enjoyed his conversation, 
this is not perhaps the character in which he will be 
most frequently recalled — most deeply lamented, or even 
most highly admired. Independently of his great attain- 
ments in mechanics, Mr. Watt was an extraordinary, 
and in many respects a wonderful man. Perhaps no 
individual in his age possessed so much, and such varied 
and exact information ; had read so much, or remember- 
ed what he had read so accurately and well. He had 
infinite quickness of apprehension, a prodigious memory, 
and a certain rectifying and methodizing power of un- 
derstanding, which extracted something precious out of 
all that w^as presented to it. His stores of miscellane- 
ous knowledge were immense, and yet less astonishing 
than the command he had at all times over them. It 
seemed as if every subject that was casually started in 
2\ 



322 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

conversation with him, had been that which he had been 
last occupied in studying and exhausting ; such was the 
copiousness, the precision, and the admirable clearness 
of the information, which he poured out upon it without 
effort or hesitation. 

'' Nor was this promptitude and compass of knowledge 
confined in any degree to the studies connected with hi? 
ordinary pursuits. That he should have been minutely 
and extensively skilled in chemistry and the arts, and in 
most of the branches of physical science, might perhaps 
have been conjectured ; but it could not have been in- 
ferred from his usual occupations, and probably is not 
generally known, that he was curiously learned in many 
branches of antiquitj% metaphysics, medicine, and ety- 
mology ; and perfectly at home in all the details of ar- 
chitecture, music, and law. He was well acquainted too 
with most of the ^nodern languages, and familiar too 
with their most recent literature. Nor was it at all ex- 
ti'aordinary to hear the gi'eat mechanician and engineer, 
detailing and expounding, for hours together, the meta- 
physical theories of the German logicians, or criticising 
the measures or the matter of the German poetry. * * * 

" It is needless to say, that with those vast resources, 
his conversation was at all times rich and instructive in 
no ordinary degi-ee. But it was, if possible, still more 
pleasing than wise, and had all the charms of familiarity, 
with all the substantial treasures of knowledge. No man 
could be more social in his spirit, less assuming or fastid- 
ious in his manners, or more kind and indulgent toward 
all who approached him. * * * * His talk too, though 
overflowing with information, had no resemblance to 
lecturing, or solemn discoursing; but, on the contraiy, 
was full of colloquial spirit and pleasantry. He had a 
certain quiet and gi-ave humor, which ran through most 
of his conversation, and a vein of temperate jocularity, 
which gave infinite zest and effect to the condensed and 
inexhaustible information which formed its main staple 
and characteristic. There was a little air of affected 
testiness, and a tone of pretended rebuke and contradic- 
tion, which he used toward his younger friends, that 
was always felt by them as an endearing mark of his 
kindness and familiarity, and prized accordingly far above 



^ JAMES WATT. 323 

all the solemn compliineats that ever proceeded from 
the lips of authority. His voice was deep and power- 
ful ; though he commonly spoke in a low and somewhat 
monotonous tone, which harmonized admirably with the 
weight and brevity of his observations, and set off to the 
greatest advantage the pleasant anecdotes which he de 
livered with the same grave tone, and the same calm 
smile playing soberly on his lips. 

"There was nothing of effort, indeed, or of impa- 
tience, any more than of pride or levity, in his demea- 
nor ; and there was a finer expression of reposing 
strength and mild self-possession in his manner, than 
we ever recollect to have met with in any other person. 
He had in his character the utmost abhorrence of all 
sorts of forwardness, parade, and pretension ; and, in- 
deed, never failed to put all such impostors out of coun- 
tenance, by the manly plainness and honest intrepidity 
of his language and deportment. 

" He was twice married, but has left no issue but one 
son, long associated with him in his business and studies, 
and two grandchildren by a daughter, who predeceased 
him. He was fellow of the Royal Societies, both of 
London and Edinburgh, and one of the few Englishmen 
who were elected members of the National Institute of 
France. 

"All men of learning and of sciejice were his cordial 
friends ; and such was the influence of his mild charac- 
ter, and perfect fairness, and liberality, even upon the 
pretender to these accomplishments, that he lived to dis- 
arm even envy itself, and died, we verily believe, with- 
out a single enemy." 



MARQUIS OF WELLESLEY. 



Among the early English settlers in Ireland was a 
family named Cowley, or Colley, which rose to consid- 
erable rank and affluence, one of its members having 
been solicitor-general so early as 1537. His descend- 
ants continued to hold great influence in the Irish Parlia- 
ment, but the first who attained eminent distinction was 
Richard Colley, who was raised to the peerage of Ire- 
land by the title of Lord Mornington in 1746. He had 
previously inherited the large estates of his cousin, Gar- 
rett Wellesley or Wesley of Dangan, who died in 1728, 
without issue. Lord Mornington assumed the surname 
and title of Wellesley, preserving, however, his heredi- 
tary designation. His son was advanced to the dignity 
of Viscount Wellesley and Earl Mornington ; he was a 
leading member in the Irish House of Peers, and a 
great favorite in the fashionable circles of Dublin. His 
eldest son, Richard, the subject of this memoir, was 
born in Dublin, June 20th, 1760, and received the first 
rudiments of education from his mother, a lady of emi- 
nent abilities and varied accomplishments. At an early 
age he was sent from Ireland to be educated at Eton, 
where he soon outsti'ipped all his cotemporaries in clas- 
sical attainments. The reputation he had acquired at 
E ton was fully sustained at Oxford ; the Greek histori- 
ans and orators were his favorite study, and during the 
whole of his long, varied, and laborious life, he never 
abandoned these favorite pursuits. 

Having concluded his studies at the university, Vis- 
count Wellesley returned to Ireland, where he had the 



MARQUIS OF WELLESLEY. 325 

misfortune to lose his father before he had attained his 
twenty-first year. Lord Morningtou left his affairs 
deeply embarrassed, and nothing but the prudent man- 
agement of the countess could have saved the family 
from great pecuniary distress. The first act of the 
young earl, an coming of age, was to take upon himself 
the whole of the pecuniary obligations of his father ; this 
noble conduct involved him in difficulties from which he 
never entirely freed himself: the debts were paid, but 
the estates were lost to the family. 

Though Earl Mornington took his seat in the Irish 
House of Peers, he regarded it as a theatre too circum- 
scribed for his abilities, and in 1784 he entered the 
English House of Commons as member for Beeralston. 
The most remarkable proceeding in which he took any 
share as an Irish peer was the debate on the Regency 
question in 1789. On this question the English and 
Irish parliaments differed so widely as to menace a sep- 
aration of the two countries. The former, as has been 
mentioned in the lives of Pitt and Fox, conferred the 
regency on the Prince of Wales, subject to certain re- 
strictions ; the Irish legislature resolved that his royal 
highness should possess the entire powers of the sov- 
ereign. Lord Slornington strenuously resisted this 
proposition ; he pointed out the dangers of conferring 
the entire powers of the crown on a regent, during what 
he hoped would prove the temporary indisposition of the 
sovereign, and, though he was outvoted, his arguments 
produced a powerful effect on the assembly. The for- 
tunate recovery of George III. averted the evils that 
might have arisen from the antagonistic decisions of the 
two legislatures ; the king was grateful to the young 
statesman who had opposed a measure fraught with 
danger to the connection between England and Ireland, 
and, when he visited London, showed him much per- 
sonal attention. Through the royal favor he was re- 
turned for the borough of Windsor, and created a privy 
counselor ; he had been previously elected a knight of 
Saint Patrick, which, however, he resigned in 1810, on 
receiving the Order of the Garter. 

In the English House of Commons, Earl Mornington 
was distinguished as a zealous supporter of Mr. Pitt, 



326 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

and an able advocate for the maintenance of the war 
against revolutionary France. His speech on this sub- 
ject in 1794 was the most elaborate which he ever de- 
livered, and its peroration, though a little too rhetorical, 
is no unfavorable specimen of his eloquence : — 

" All the circumstances of your situation are now be- 
fore you. You are now to make your option — you are 
now to decide whether it best becomes the wisdom, the 
dignity, and the spirit of a great nation to rely for her 
existence on the will of a restless and implacable enemy, 
or on her own sword ; you are now to decide whether 
you will eati'ust to the valor and skill of British fleets 
and British armies, to the approved strength of your 
united and powerful allies, the defence of the limited 
monarchy of these realms, of the constitution of Parlia- 
ment, of all the established ranks and orders of society 
among us, of the sacred rights of property, and of the 
whole frame of our laws, our liberties, and our religion ; 
or whether you will deliver over the guardianship of all 
these blessings to the justice of Cambon, the plunderer 
of the Netherlands, who, to sustain the baseless fabric 
of his depreciated assignats, defrauds whole nations of 
their rights of property, and mortgages the aggregate 
wealth of Europe ; to the moderation of Danton, who 
first promulgated that unknown law of nature which or- 
dains that the Alps, the Pyrenees, the Ocean, and the 
Rhine should be the only boundaries of the French do- 
minions ; to the religion of Robespierre, Avhose practice 
of piety is the murder of his own sovereign, who exhorts 
all mankind to embrace the same faith, and to assassi- 
nate all kings for the honor of God ; to the friendship of 
Barrere, who avows, in the face of all Europe, that the 
fundamental article of the revolutionary government of 
France is the ruin and annihilation of the British em- 
pire ; or, finally, to whatever may be the accidental 
caprice of a new band of malefactors, who, in the last 
convulsions of their exhausted country, may be destined 
to drag the present tyrants to their own scaffolds, to 
seize their lav/less power, to emulate the depravity of 
their example, and to rival the enormity of their 
crimes." 

So rapid was the progress which Lord Mornington 



MARQUIS OF WELLESLEY. 327 

made in the favor of the king and the confidence of the 
minister, that he was chosen, in 1797, to succeed Lord 
Cornwallis as Governor-General of India ; he was at the 
same time raised to the Britisli peerage under the title 
of Baron Wellesley, in right of which he sat in the 
House of Lords. The marquisate which he subse- 
quently attained was in the Irish peerage ; but as a 
British peer he never ranked higher than baron. Lord 
Wellesley, accompanied by his illustrious brother, Col- 
onel Wellesley, now Duke of Wellington, reached India 
at a very critical period. Bonaparte had achieved the 
conquest of Egypt, and was supposed to meditate an 
attack on the British empire in India. Tippoo Saib, 
smarting under the defeats he had received from Lord 
Cornwallis, and galled by the sacrifices of territory which 
he had been compelled to make in order to purchase 
peace, was engaged in secret intrigues with French 
emissaries, and was also stimulating the Mussulman 
powers to unite in a grand confederacy for the expulsion 
of the English from India. Under these circumstances 
Lord Wellesley acted with equal projnptitude and firm- 
ness ; an expedition was sent to secure and fortify the 
island of Perim, which commands the straits of Btib-el- 
Mandeb, and thus guards the entrance of the Red Sea; 
negotiations were commenced with Tippoo, and when it 
became evident that the sultan only sought to gain time 
for warlike preparations, an army was got ready with 
extraordinary speed to march upon his capital. General 
Harris, who commanded the expedition, took Seringa- 
patam by storm, after a month's siege ; Tippoo Saib was 
slain in the tumult, and the war was at an end. The 
governor-general resolved to restore the ancient line of 
Hindoo princes, the representative of whom was then a 
child of five years old ; he appointed suitable guardians 
to the young rajah, and, to prevent any future French 
intrigues at Mysore, he took possession of Seringapatam 
and the districts along the coast, including the port of 
Man galore. 

The overthrow of Tippoo Saib produced a very power- 
ful sensation in Europe and Asia ; the designs of the 
French on India were completely frustrated, and the 
native powers of the East began to regard British prow- 



328 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

ess as irresistible. To confirm this impression, the Mar- 
quis of Welle sley made a tour through the northern 
provinces of Hindostan in all the splendor of Oriental 
magnificence, and exhibiting the power of a conqueror 
united to the wisdom of a statesman. He redressed 
gi'ievances, created friends and allies, repressed open or 
concealed enemies, and fixed the British empire in 
India on a basis that has not since been shaken. Emi- 
nent, however, as his services were, the Company did 
not always view with favor his measures of enlightened 
policy ; he w^as anxious to increase the commercial in- 
tercourse between Europe and India, to develop the 
natural and industrial resources of the latter country, 
and to create among the Hindoos a spirit of commerce, 
as the best aid in extending civilization. But, as the 
measures lie proposed seemed to infringe the monopoly 
of commerce which the Company and its servants en- 
joyed, he was strongly resisted by the Court of Direct- 
ors, and his measures were in consequence but partially 
successful. Still he had raised the public revenue from 
seven to fifteen millions annually, with advantage to 
commerce, and without injustice to the inhabitants of 
India. 

In 1801, Lord Wellesley sent an expedition up the 
Red Sea to cooperate in the expulsion of the French 
from India ; it arrived too late to take a part in the 
operations, but the mere fact of its presence helped to 
impress Europe with a deep sense of the resources of 
the British empire. The jMahratta war followed, in 
which the brother of the governor-general, who has 
since become so illustrious, won his first laurels at the 
battle of Assaye. By the wisdom and prudence of 
Lord Wellesley, not less than by the skill and bravery 
of the armies employed, the war was brought to a 
successful issue. The important territory between the 
Jumna and the Ganges was annexed to the British 
dominions, and the power of the Mahrattas, which 
menaced the ruin of central India, was humbled to the 
dust. 

In 1805, the Marquis of Wellesley was recalled home 
at, his own request ; but, though his eminent services 
were recognized by the ministers of the crown and the 



MARQUIS OF WELLESLEY. 329 

East India Company, there were many who murmured 
at his profuse expenditure, and at the harshness with 
which he was said to have treated some of the native 
princes, particularly the Nabob of Oude. Articles of 
impeachment were presented against him in the House 
of Commons, by a person named Paull, but they were 
subsequently withdrawn, and a vote obtained in his 
favor. 

Though the marquis, on his return to Europe, gener- 
ally supported the war against Napoleon, he was far 
from approving the entire policy of the Perceval, or 
even the Liverpool administi-ation : on the contrary, he 
exhibited a leaning toward the course recommended by 
Lords Grey and Grenville, though he did not formally 
join them in opposition. Early in 1809 he was ap- 
pointed ambassador extraordinary to the court of Spam; 
but he found the councils of that country in such a state 
of distraction, as to convince him that the Peninsula 
could only be saved from the power of Napoleon by 
British exertions. His views were very unwelcome to 
Spanish pride, and were not thoroughly approved by 
the British cabinet. He therefore returned home, and, 
after some tedious negotiations, was induced to accept 
the office of Secretary for Foreign Affairs, under Mr. 
Perceval. He held this post from December, 1809, to 
January, 1812, when he resigned, because he diftered 
from his colleagues on the question of Catholic Emanci- 
pation, and on the proper course to be pursued in the 
conduct of the war. When Mr. Perceval w-is assassi- 
nated in the following May, the prince regent com- 
missioned Lord Wellesley to form a new administi-ation. 
We have already mentioned, in the Life of Mr. Can- 
ning, the difficulties, arising from the position of parties, 
which frustrated the regent's first designs, and led to 
the formation of the Liverpool ministry. Shortly after 
this event, Mr. Canning carried a motion in favor of 
Catholic Emancipation in the House of Commons ; and 
a similar motion by the Marquis of Wellesley, in the 
House of Lords, was lost only by a majority of one, and 
that one a proxy. , 

From 1813 to 1823 the marquis remained m the 
ranks of opposition. In the early part of that period 

E E 2 



330 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

he took frequent opportunities of calling the attention 
of Parhament to the position in which his illustrious 
brother, Lord Wellington, was placed in the Peninsula. 
He complained of the want of cooperation fi*om the 
haughty but imbecile Spaniards, and he condemned the 
niggard supplies and reinforcements sent out by the 
British ministers. At the close of the war he stigma- 
tized, in the strongest terms, the neglect of the com- 
mercial interests of Britain, manifest in the treaties by 
which the peace of Europe was then consolidated. 
The restrictive measures adopted by the ministry, to 
check the disturbances by which the country was 
agitated at the close of the war, found in him a vigorous 
and formidable opponent. He advocated measures of 
gentleness and concession, as the most likely to insure 
tranquillity by conciliating affection. 

The visit of George IV. to Ireland, and the enthusi- 
astic reception he received from its warm-hearted popu- 
lation, led to some change of policy in the government 
of that country. It was resolved that the Catholics 
should be conciliated, though not emancipated ; and the 
zeal which the Marquis of Wellesley had displayed in 
advocating the Catholic claims, pointed him out as the 
most proper person to effect the change. His con- 
ciliatory policy gave gi'eat ofTtence to the leaders of 
what was called the Protestant party, who had hitherto 
held exclusive possession of power. A personal attack 
was made on the lord-heutenant when he visited the 
theatre, and the authors of the outrage escaped with 
impunity. His difhculties were increased by the ag)-a- 
riau disturbances which distracted the southern coun- 
ties. Insurrections, conflagrations, and murders were 
necessarily met by measuies of coercion, and the op- 
portunities for carrying out a conciliatory policy were 
few and far between. The marquis, however, met 
the difficulties of his position with gi-eat firmness, wis- 
dom, and discretion ; but his eflfbrts wei-e not crowned 
with the success Vvhich he had anticipated, and he 
probably was not soriy when the accession of his 
brother to the office of premier led to his removal. 
While lord-lieutenant, he took for his second wife a 
Catholic lady, the widow of INIr. Robert Patterson. 



MARQUIS OF WELLESLEY. 331 

His first marriage had been unfortunate, and its issue 
was not recognized by the laws of England. 

Under Earl Grey's administration the Marquis of 
Wellesley was induced to accept the government of 
Ireland a second time, having previously held the office 
of Lord High Steward. Several practical ameliorations 
were effected during this brief administration, which 
was. abruptly brought to a close when the Whig minis- 
ters were dismissed by William IV. in 1834. Lord 
Wellesley took an active part in the measures which 
led to the overthrow of the Peel cabinet and the restor- 
ation of the Whigs, but he was not again sent to Ireland ; 
and though he held the office of Lord Chamberlain for 
a few months, he may be said to have abandoned public 
life from the time he quitted the viceroyalty. 

In 1837 it became known that the Marquis of 
Wellesley was in very embarrassed circumstances ; 
the Court of East India Directors took the opportunity 
of performing an act of tardy justice, and voted him a 
liberal grant of money, not only with unanimity, but 
with great enthusiasm. This first step toward ac- 
knowledging the merit of an administration which had 
been long studiously maligned, was followed by an 
equally honorable testimony in 1840, when it was re- 
solved that a marble statue should be erected in the 
India House to commemorate his services. 

During the eight years in which he lived retired 
from public life, Lord Wellesley devoted himself to 
classical studies : they had nurtured his youth, and now 
they solaced his age. He printed a small volume of 
Latin and English poems, for private circulation, which 
exhibit great vigor of thought, and an extraordinary 
command of language. He died on the 22d of Sep- 
tember, 1842, full of years and honors. He had lived 
to see the brothers for whom he had sacrificed much 
in youth raised to the highest dignities of the empire, 
and the one whose talents he had been the first to 
appreciate universally recognized as the first warrior 
and statesman of Europe. Foreign writers have often 
expressed their surprise, that a nobleman, possessed of 
such high mental and moral powers, did not take a 
more prominent part in the councils of the British 



332 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

emiiire ; but the solution of tlie question requires a 
more intimate knowledge of the secrets of party than is 
easily attainable. It is, however, more creditable to his 
memory, that it should be asked why he did not occupy 
a foremost place, than why he had been thrust into 
such a position. 



WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 



Few names in political history shine with so pure a 
lustre as that of Wilberforce ; to the abilities of a states- 
man and an orator, he united the benevolence of the phi- 
lanthropist, and the piety of the sincere Christian. He 
was descended from an old and opulent mercantile fam- 
ily in Hull, of which city his grandfather had been twice 
mayor. His father dying while he was very young, he 
was placed under the care of the Rev. Joseph Milner, a 
clergyman of great worth and learning, who neglected 
no opportunity of impressing on the mind of his pupil a 
deep sense of the responsibilities involved in his duty to- 
ward God, and his duty toward man. The influence of 
this early training in vital religion was visible throughout 
the whole of Mr. Wilberforce's career ; the lessons of 
duty which he had learned as a boy he practiced as a 
man, and he was never ashamed of pursuing the path of 
strict rectitude, though often exposed to the sneers of 
the selfish and the worldly-minded. At the university 
of Cambridge, where he was a diligent and successful 
student, he became acquainted with Mr. Pitt, and form- 
ed a strict friendship with him, which, in spite of some 
political differences, continued unabated to the close of 
that statesman's career. After quitting the university 
he made a short tour upon the continent, and indulged 
a little in those dissipations which were then too com- 
monly associated with fashionable life ; but soon after his 
return to England, he broke off all connection with these 
dangerous gaieties, and having become acquainted with 
Thomas Clarkson, resolved to devote his energies to the 
abolition of Negro slavery. 



334 MOP^^TIN BRITISH PLUTAUCII. 

Mr. Wilberforce first entered Parliament as member 
for his native town, and early obtained high reputation 
as an orator, a philanthropist, and a patriot. He joined 
the party of Mr. Pitt, and when that gentleman was 
driven from office by the coalition between Mr. Fox and 
Lord North, he opposed the new ministiy, which in- 
deed had neither the confidence of the king nor that of 
the country. On the dissolution of Parliament he was 
invited to stand for the county of York, and though most 
powerfully opposed, found himself in 1784 the repre- 
sentative of the largest constituency in England, and the 
possessor of gi-eater political influence than was ever 
wielded by a single individual. 

A few personal friends, chiefly united to Mr. Wilber- 
force by the similarity of their religious opinions, formed 
the party on which he relied when he first raised his 
voice against the slave trade ; the most eminent states- 
men in the House of Commons, with the single excep- 
tion of Mr. Windham, lent their aid to vindicate the 
cause of outi'aged humanity ; but the struggle was pro- 
ti-acted for more than twenty years, and but for the 
steady perseverance of Mr. Wilberforce, and the small 
band of his immediate associates, it is probable that the 
triumph of humanity might remain to be yet accom- 
plished. It is not possible to estimate rightly the mer- 
its of those who devoted themselves to the cause of 
abolition, without taking into account the gi-eat obstacles 
against which they had to contend. In the first place, 
George III. was decidedly opposed to abolition ; he re- 
garded the question with the utmost abhorrence, not 
merely because it was an innovation, nor even because 
it was opposed to the strong prejudices he had formed 
on the subject of the colonies, but because he atti'ibuted 
the zeal manifested for the negi'oes to the influence of 
the French theories respecting the rights of man, and 
in some way associated every plea in favor of any great 
change, with the delusions of that infidel philosophy 
which menaced the security of eveiy throne in Chris- 
tendom. The gi-eat majority of the House of Lords 
had taken a similar view of the matter ; they saw that 
those who advocated abolition in France were among the 
most zealous enemies of the monarchy, the nobiUty, and 



WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 335 

the church, and they feared that the triumph of auy 
project advocated by such men, would be an encourage- 
ment to the progress of their other principles. It was 
reasonable to expect the hostility of the West India pro- 
prietors ; a body of men which then possessed great 
power in Parliament, and which still exercises consider- 
able influence over the debates and decisions of the legis- 
lature. They dreaded that if the supply of slaves should 
be stopped, their estates would become worthless from 
want of laborers ; and, at a later period, the revolt of 
the negroes in St. Domingo, which they attributed to 
the abolitionists of France, filled them with the greatest 
alarm for the security of their property. 

What is called "the shipping interest" was another 
powerful body, vehemently opposed to the policy of Mr. 
Wilberforce : the slave trade appeared to pay higher 
rates of freight than any other branch of traffic, and per- 
haps no commerce was more highly valued in Bristol 
and Liverpool. All who manufactured goods for the 
African market were, or rather supposed themselves, 
interested in the maintenance of the slave trade, and 
could not easily be persuaded that a more legitimate 
commerce would produce an equal demand for their 
goods. In fine, the great bulk of the English nation, at 
the commencement of the struggle, was not merely 
apathetic, but even hostile to the policy advocated by 
Wilberforce. The loss of the American colonies had 
given to the people a very exaggerated opinion of the 
importance and value of those colonies which remained 
faithful in their allegiance ; no one could then have anti- 
cipated, what experience has subsequently proved, that 
the Americans are more valuable customers since they 
declared their independence, than they ever could have 
been, had they continued in the condition of colonists. 

It was fortunate for the gi'eat cause of humanity that 
its advocacy was entrusted at this period to one who, 
like Wilberforce, commanded respect by his character, 
while he carried conviction by his eloquence. His phy- 
sical weakness set off by contrast the strength of his 
moral power; his melodious voice, which, however, 
sometimes too nearly approached a whine, was admira- 
bly suited to thp pathetic and persuasive arguments 



336 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

which formed the great staple of his oratory. Occa- 
sionally bold and impassioned, he was very rarely sar- 
castic, and then only when he believed that a sneer was 
intended against religion rather than against himself. 
From the rich stores of his cultivated mind he poured 
forth a continuous supply of valuable information and well 
digested knowledge, enriched by classical allusion and 
the higher graces of rhetoric. But when he reverently 
touched on some of the more sublime topics of Holy 
Writ, he seemed to have caught some share of prophetic 
inspiration. " Few passages," says Lord Brougham, 
" can be cited in the oratory of modern times, of a more 
electrical effect than the singularly felicitous and striking 
allusion to Mr. Pitt resisting the torrent of Jacobin prin- 
ciples, — " He stood hehveen the living and the dead, and 
the plague was stayed.''^ 

It was long before the public mind arrived at the con- 
clusion that the slave trade, from beginning to end, was 
not a commerce but a crime, that its gains were derived 
from piUage and murder, and that it led, almost neces- 
sarily, those who were engaged in it to stain their souls 
with abominable fraud and detestable cruelty. But the 
perseverance of the little band of abolitionists at last 
forced attention to the subject, and when once inquiry 
was seriously undertaken its effect was irresistible. 
From apathy, if not hostility, the great body of the peo- 
ple passed to an earnest zeal in the cause of abolition, 
and the iniquity of the slave trade was at different times 
denounced by the all but unanimous voice of the nation. 
In 1804 Mr. Wilberforce, for the first time, succeeded 
in carrying the bill for the Abolition of the Slave Trade 
through the House of Commons, but it was rejected by 
the Lords, and in the next session it was lost in the 
Commons. In the following year, resolutions condem- 
natory of the slave trade were adopted by both houses of 
Parliament, and in 1807 the bill for its suppression finally 
became the law of England. 

Though personally and politically attached to Mr. 
Pitt, Wilberforce never was a partisan ; he differed 
from the minister on two most important occasions, on 
the commencement of the war against France in 1793, 
and on the impeachment of Lord Melville. On the 



WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 337 

former occasion, Mr. Pitt employed a stratagem to keep 
Wilberlbrce from proclaiming his sentiments in favor of 
peace ; it is now generally known that Pitt himself was 
adverse to the war, and was reluctantly induced to 
consent to hostilities by the king's personal influence ; 
he would, therefore, have felt his difficulties greatly in- 
creased had he to contend publicly against the friend 
with whom he agreed in private. Mr. Wilberforce's 
speech against Lord Melville is said to have won forty 
votes in favor of the impeachment of that nobleman ; an 
extraordinary achievement, for parliamentary eloquence 
rarely succeeds in changing a vote. 

After having represented the county of York for about 
forty years, so much to the satisfaction of his constit- 
uents, that on one occasion of a contested election they 
raised the sum of seventy thousand pounds to defray 
the expenses of the struggle, he resigned this post in 
1812, and became member for Bramber, a less laborious 
though a less glorious seat. The only other great po- 
litical question in which Wilberforce took a leading part 
was Catholic Emancipation, which he advocated, though 
persuaded that the measure would not of itself restore 
tranquility to Ireland. As an author, he is best known 
by his " Practical View of Christianity," a work which 
has had a very important share in effecting that religious 
improvement of the higher classes, which so strongly 
distinguishes the present age from the past. 

In private life Mr. Wilberforce exhibited the same 
active benevolence and the same Christian piety which 
marked his public career ; one-fourth of his not very 
ample fortune was spent in acts of charity and philan- 
thropy ; his conversation was eagerly sought by the 
wise and good, who derived both pleasure and profit 
from his vast and varied stores of original thought and 
acquired information. He died in a gi'een old age during 
the summer of 1833, and was buried in Westmmster 
Abbey ; no less than thirty peers and one hundred and 
thirty members of the House of Commons attended the 
funeral, eager to pay the last tribute of respect to one 
who had raised the character of the British legislature 
in every land where rationed freedom is loved, and gen- 
uine philanthropy regarded. 
■;>,-:• P F 



SIR DAVID WILKIE. 



Or few painters could it be more truly said that his 
life was his art, and his art his life, than Sir David Wil- 
kie ; he clung to it in his early struggles, he did not 
relinquish it in subsequent prosperity ; it raised him 
from his cradle, it sunk him in his gi-ave. He was the 
son of the minister of the parish of Cults, in the Scot- 
tish county of Fife, and was born in the manse, as par- 
sonage-houses are called in Scotland, November 18th, 
1785. Scarcely had he escaped from his mother's 
bosom, when he began to draw such figuies as struck 
his young fancy, on the sands by the side of Eden- water, 
on the smooth stones of the field, or on the floors of the 
manse ; he used himself to declare that he could draw 
before he could read, and paint before he could spell. 
At school his regular studies were neglected for rude 
but characteristic portraits of his playmates and associ- 
ates ; even the sanctity of the kirk could not check his 
propensity, for, during divine sei^ice, he was frequently 
detected in drawing the heads of the congregation. 

When the minister of Cults saw that his son's mind 
was set on painting, he endeavored to dissuade liim 
from entering on such an arduous profession ; but, 
finding that his arguments produced little effect, he re- 
solved to gi'atify his inclinations, and send him to re- 
ceive instructions in Edinburgh. A letter of inti-oduction 
to the Trustees' Academy of Edinburgh was obtained 
fi-om the Earl of Leven, and thither Wilkie proceeded 
in November, 1799, being about fourteen years of age. 
Mr. George Thompson, who was then, and long after- 



SIR DAVID WILKIE. 339 

ward, the secretary to the Academy, saw no merit in 
the drawings which the boy presented to him as speci- 
mens ; but the influence of an earl overcame the 
scruples of a secretary, and Wilkie's name was placed 
on the books. About the time that he entered, Mr. 
John Graham was appointed master of the Academy, a 
kind and ardent man, who had the tact of inspiring his 
pupils with a share of his own enthusiasm ; he was the 
first to introduce oil-painting and premiums into the 
Academy, and had to encounter opposition, similar to 
that which has been offered to both in modern schools 
of design. Wilkie's progi-ess soon excited general admi- 
ration ; he was distinguished from all his associates by his 
shrewd conception of character, and great originality of 
observation ; but the subjects given out for prizes were 
rarely such as called his peculiar powers into action. In 
1803, however, he obtained a prize often guineas, for a 
picture of Calisto and Diana, and the first use he made 
of the money was to send a token of remembrance to 
his mother. In 1804, he returned to Cults, where he 
painted several portraits, and a picture of " Pitlessie 
Fair," which, though defective as a work of art, exhib- 
ited great merits as a faithful delineation of life and 
natm-e. A present of two lay figures, from the Rev. 
Dr. Martin, greatly assisted his progress in art ; and his 
next picture, the " Village Recruit," showed proofs of 
rapid improvement. But the resources of Cults were 
soon exhausted; he resolved to visit London, and, 
having collected a small stock of money by the sale of 
his pictures, he took his departure for the great metrop- 
ohs, in the packet from Leith, May 20th, 1805. It was 
not until the middle of July, that Wilkie was able to 
enter as a practitioner, preparatory to becoming a stu- 
dent in the Royal Academy. He was able, however, 
to dispose of some of his pictures in London ; they 
were displayed in a window near Charing Cross, and, 
though the work of an unknown artist, excited much 
attention. 

In September, 1805, Wilkie had the good fortune to 
become acquainted with Mr. Stodart, an eminent piano- 
forte manufacturer, by whom he was inti'oduced to the 
Earl of Mansfield, who gave him a commission for the 



340 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

picture of the " Village Politicians :" before it was fin- 
ished, the fame of its merits spread abroad; Sir George 
Beaumont and Lord Mulgrave visited the artist, and 
not only praised his worii., but ordered pictures for them- 
selves. Thus, at the age of one-and-twenty, he felt 
himself entering on a certain career of fame, though he 
had still to sti-uggle against difficulties of fortune. The 
" Village Politicians," when displayed in 1806 at the 
Royal Academy, created a great sensation ; there was 
a dail> crush to see it; crowd succeeded crowd of 
gazers, from morning till night. 

The next picture which he exhibited, was painted 
for his generous pati-on and judicious friend. Sir George 
Beaumont; it was "The Blind Fiddler," which, for 
unity of purpose, is his finest work, and which he 
hardly surpassed at any time in variety of character 
and force of delineation. It tells the story as plainly as 
if the actors spoke : the very name of the work is 
superfluous, for no one can look upon it without feeling 
and understanding the whole. It attracted great admi- 
ration in the exhibition, and fairly established the artist's 
fame. His health, however, compelled him to visit 
Scotland, and seek the benefit of his native air. On 
his return to London, he completed the " Card-Players," 
" Alfred in the Neatherd's Cottage," the " Sick Lady," 
and the " Jew's Harp," all of which maintained his 
reputation, while the " Rent Day" greatly added to his 
character for dramatic power in art, and his skill in 
making a picture tell a complete sto^y. These were 
follow^ed by " The Cut Finger," " The Reading of the 
Will," and the "Village Festival," works which secured 
his election as an Associate of the Royal Academy. 
His journal proves that he worked hard to obtain dis- 
tinction ; he altered, rubbed out, restored, retouched, 
finished, sparing neither time nor toil to insure perfec- 
tion. 

In 1811, Wilkie became a Royal Academician, and 
presented as his diploma picture, " Boys digging for 
Rats," which, though limited in its subject, is remarka- 
ble for its life, vigor, and truth. In the following year 
he opened an exhibition of his pictures, which extended 
his fame, but yielded little pecuniary profit. His father, 



SIR DAVID WILKIE. 341 

to whom he was fondly attached, died at the close of 
the year, upon which Wilkie brought his mother and 
sister to reside with him in London. He soon after 
completed the picture of " Blindman's Buff," which, as 
an engraving, enjoys unabated popularity. 

After a short visit to Paris, by which he declared 
himself more astonished than insti'ucted, he produced 
the " Distraining for Rent," on which he bestowed 
more than ordinary pains. As it was one which he 
highly estimated himself, and often mentioned as his 
best delineation of actual life in his peculiar style, we 
shall insert Allan Cunningham's vivid description of its 
subject : — 

" The scene is very happily imagined, the house is 
not without warnings of what is coming : the idle jack, 
the burnt-out fire, the empty bee-hive, are so many 
intimations of mismanagement, or slackness of industry. 
Though the visit of the bailiff, Avith the lawyer's clerk, 
has thrown the house, and all it contains, into violent 
commotion, such a visit, it is plain, could not be wholly 
unexpected. The human heart is prone to compassion ; 
and that of the spectator melts at the sight of the 
fainting mother and her helpless children, already in 
want of food, and about to be deprived of bed and bed- 
ding. The father seems to upbraid himself for the 
misery which has fallen on all that he loved ; and there 
are willing hands and ready tongues at his side to aid 
and assist him in retaining a hold of his own. In the 
midst of all this the merciless lawyer, a smooth, snug, 
smart-dressed man, sits on the bed-side, making out an 
inventory of the poor tenant's goods and chattels, under 
protection of the bailiff, who holds his cudgel hke one 
who can use it, and eyes the frowning group like one 
who has more law on his side than tenderness in his 
lieart. A fellow in a cap, who seems to be drowsy 
with drink, calls out the names, and lays his hand on 
the various articles as the other writes ; while, at the 
other end of the picture, a woman in a Scotch mutch 
holds her apron near her eyes, and regards the scene 
with a quiet glance of subdued melancholy." 

Passing over many works which he produced in this 
period of his career, there are three that must not be 
F f3 



342 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

omitted, because they possess a national importance. 
" The Family of Sir Walter Scott," painted by Wilkie 
dm'ing a visit to Abbotsford, must ever be valued as a 
representation of the great dramatist at the highest 
point of his ambition, prosperity, and happiness ; " The 
Penny Wedding," painted for the prince regent, is 
the most characteristic delineation of rural life in Scot- 
land; and the "Chelsea Pensioners reading the Gazette 
account of Waterloo," may be regarded as one of the 
few historical paintings of the English school, which 
deserve to be regarded as truly national. Indeed, the 
battle of Waterloo itself made scarcely a greater stir in 
the land than did the " Reading of the Gazette," when 
it appeared in the exhibition of the Academy. The 
anxiety of all ranks to see it, and the consequent crush 
when it was displayed, have never been exceeded ; a 
crowd, in the shape of a half-moon, stood before it from 
morning till night, the taller looking over the heads of 
the shorter; while happy was the admirer who could 
obtain a peep, and still happier those who, by patient 
waiting, were rewarded with a full sight, as some of the 
earlier comers retired, wearied but not satisfied. Sol- 
diers hurried from drill to see it ; the pensioners came 
on crutches, and brought with them their wives and 
children to have a look ; and, as many of the heads 
were portraits, these were eagerly pointed out, and 
the fortunate heroes named, sometimes with a sliout. 
Such was the enthusiasm which the national picture 
inspired. To Wilkie, who was not conscious of having 
made any unusual exertion, the public rapture was both 
startling and pleasing. 

There were few of his productions on which Wilkie 
bestowed such pains, reflection, and study, as on the 
picture of " John Knox preaching before the Lords of 
the Congregation;" it had its foundation in history, 
and it was replete with interest to the land of his birth 
and the church of his afl^ections. His labors were 
inteiTupted by his being invited to paint a picture com- 
memorating the visit of George IV. to the capital of 
Scotland ; he choose the king's visit to Holja-ood. The 
exertions which he made were beyond his strength, 
and the loss of his mother aggravated his illness; a con- 



SIR DAVID WILKIE. o43 

tinentnl tour was recommended by the physicians, and, 
after passing through France and Switzerland, he en- 
tered Italy with the feelings of a pilgi-im of art, about to 
visit its holiest shrines. His journals and letters are 
full of admirable criticism on the triumphs of sculpture 
and art which he witnessed in this classic land, and 
deserve to be attentively studied by every young artist. 
We can only extract one sentence from a letter to his 
friend Collins, but, though brief, it is pregnant with 
useful and important suggestions ; " From Giotto to 
Michael Angelo expression and sentiment seem the 
first thing thought of, while those who followed seem to 
have allowed technicalities to get the better of them, 
until simplicity gave way to intricacy, and they painted 
more for the artist and the connoisseur than for the 
untutored tastes of ordinary men." 

The year 1825 was one of serious difficulty to authors 
and to artists ; the failure of several large publishing 
houses, and the embarrassments of others, involved a 
large amount of suffering to all engaged in intellectual 
pursuits. Wilkie lost largely by the failure of Hurst 
, and Robinson, but he did not lose courage ; it was 
necessary that he should recover his health to retrieve 
his losses, and he continued, for several months, to 
enjoy the genial climate of Italy. His restoration to 
health, however, was slow, and he was induced to visit 
Germany, to try the effect of its medicinal waters. 
The experiment was not attended with the success he 
expected, but he had the gratification of examining and 
criticising the gi-eat collections of art in Dresden and 
Vienna, and the remarks which he made upon them 
are full of instruction to those who aspire to a knowledge 
of the great principles of art. 

In the autumn of 1826 he returned to Italy, and in 
the spring of the following year he resolved to visit the 
picture-galleries of Spain. He had several inducements 
to make this pilgrimage : access to the Peninsula had 
been opened by our sword, and smoothed by our diplo- 
macy, but our artists, a tijuid class, had not ventured to 
pass a fi'ontier fenced by old fears, rather than by pre- 
sent dangers ; the treasures of art in Madrid, Seville, 
and the Escurial, were only known to them by distant 



344 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

fame and reputation. To see Murillo, and still more 
Velasquez, to ascertain if their merits were equal to their 
fame, and if, as he had guessed from the specimens he 
had seen, the style of the latter agreed in spirit with 
the English school, made one great object of his journey. 
Moreover, his medical advisers had recommended a 
three years' trial of foreign air, and but two years of the 
period had expired. It may also be added, that he had 
all but resolved on a change of style, and desired to have 
the sanction of Velasquez in a matter of such moment. 
He entered Spain in the September of 1827, and pro- 
ceeded to Madi'id, where he had the pleasure to meet 
Washington Irving, then the American minister at that 
court, Lord Mahon, who was connected with the Eng- 
lish Embassy, and Prince Dolgorouki of the Russian 
Legation ; through their exertions, and those of his other 
friends, every facility was afforded him by the Spanish 
authoi-ities, and the gratification which his tastes re- 
ceived, contributed greatly to the restoration of his 
health. We extract from one of his letters a valuable 
passage on the popular admiration of Murillo, in Seville. 

"You have, no doubt, been struck with that quality 
of power, in Murillo, that makes him admired by the 
unlearned, as well as the learned, in the ait. Being a 
favorite in all countries, it is not surprising that he 
should be so in Seville. Here, even among the lower 
classes, he is venerated, as if he were the patriot and 
benefactor of the city ; his name is with them synony- 
mous with all that is excellent — a general term, which 
makes in their eyes every beautiful picture, painted by 
whom it may, ' a Murillo.' Far be it from us to envy 
the taste of those who despise, in matters of art, the 
sympathy of the untutored mind ; this, when unocca- 
sioned by trick or deception, is perhaps one of the most 
solid and most lasting evidences of the power of true 
excellence." 

Wilkie returned to London in June, 1828, where fame 
had previously announced that health had begun to re- 
turn to him, and that his Spanish studies had induced 
him to quit the style of art in Avhich he had acquired 
his fame, for one requiring fewer figures, less detail, 
and having a more historic and even poetic character in 



SIR DAVID WILKIE. 345 

its subjects. In the exhibition of 1829, he displayed 
eight pictures, three of which were Spanish, four Italian, 
and one the portrait of a Scotch nobleman. The Span- 
ish were all of a historic character, delineating scenes 
in the Peninsular war. None of them excited such at- 
tention as " The Maid of Saragossa," which is too well 
known to need description. The king was so pleased 
with the Spanish pictures, that he appointed him his 
Painter in Ordinary, having some years previously nom- 
inated him to the office of royal limner for Scotland. 

" The Preaching of John Knox" was not exhibited 
until the year 1 832 ; its success was decisive of the 
merits of the new style which Wilkie had adopted. The 
deep lucid coloring, energy of character, beauty of 
grouping, harmony of light and shade, and the subdued 
passions visible in the countenances of all the personages 
introduced, are in the artist's happiest manner, and, 
taken together, render this production a miracle of art. 
Next to it, perhaps, may be ranked " Christopher Co- 
lumbus submitting the Chart of his Voyage for the dis- 
covery of the New World to the Spanish Authorities," 
which was exhibited in 1835, and had greater dramatic 
interest than is usual in historical pictures. In the 
course of this year he visited Ireland, and took a scene 
from its domestic history for one of his favorite pictures, 
the " Peep-o-day Boy." Though WilUie valued this 
very highly as a work of art, it had not his usual merit 
of fidelity to nature ; it was as much a delineation of a 
Calabrian bandit as of an Irish insurgent. On the ac- 
cession of Queen Victoria, Wilkie was appointed Painter 
in Ordinary, as in the two preceding reigns, and was 
commissioned to paint the picture of "Her Majesty's 
First Council ;" he also received the honor of kniglit- 
hood, which had been too long delayed. He was now 
unquestionably at the head of British art, and every suc- 
cessive picture confirmed his fame. 

In the autumn of 1840 he set out suddenly on a 
journey to the East ; his objects appear to have been to 
paint the portraits of the young Sultan of Turkey, and 
the old Pasha of Egypt, to gain variety of subjects by 
studying remote scenes and strange manners, but above 
all, to collect materials for a new style of Scriptural illus- 



346 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

tration, derived from actual observation of the climate 
and localities of the most important events recorded in 
the Bible. Constantinople afforded him more gi-atifica- 
tion than any place he had ever visited : from the ful- 
ness of his journals, the length of his letters, the num- 
ber of his sketches, and the finish of his oil-paintings, it 
would seem as if the pen or pencil had been constantly 
employed during his residence in that city. His por- 
trait of the Sultan was one of the most promising he 
ever commenced, and not far from being the best he 
ever painted. His tour through Syria, Palestine, and 
Egypt gave him a fund of materials which it would have 
required a life to exhaust, but, unfortunately, they and 
he were lost to art by his premature death. Scarcely 
had he quitted Malta on his return home, when he was 
attacked by an access of disease, which proved mortal in 
a few hours. The packet returned to the island, but the 
authorities would not permit the body to be landed, and 
it was committed to the deep, the burial sei-vice having 
been read by the Reverend James Vaughan, who was 
one of the passengers. 

Thus, in the vigor of life, was the most original, 
vigorous, and varied of British painters taken from the 
world. His loss was lamented by men of all classes and 
every shade of political party. Sir Robert Peel presided 
at the meeting held to vote a public statue to his memory : 
it was held on the very day of a change of ministiy ; but 
to prove that art is independent of political faction. Lord 
John Russell attended and took a leading part in the pro- 
ceedings. The subscription lists were soon filled, for 
all lovers of painting were anxious to honor one who was 
a brilliant ornament to British art, and an instructive 
example to British artists. 



WELLINGTON. 



Although the plan of this work excludes the biog- 
raphies of the living, it is necessary to make one illus- 
trious exception in favor of the great captain of the 
age, because his military career is at an end, and be- 
cause some account of that career is necessary to a 
complete appreciation of the services which the Mar- 
quis of Wellesley has rendered to his country. The 
future biographer of the Duke of Wellington will have 
to consider him under the double aspect of a warrior 
and a statesman ; but while he is still spared to take an 
active part in political life, it would be inconsistent with 
the course we have pursued to trace a career wliich is 
yet incomplete. Thirty years of peace, however, have 
so far removed the military services of the Duke of 
Wellington from the memory of the existing generation, 
that there can be no objection to separating the hero 
from the politician, and writing that portion of the Duke 
of Wellington's life, which, being happily completed, 
has taken its permanent place in history. 

Arthur Wellesley, the subject of the present memoir, 
was born at Dangan Castle, in the County of Meath, 
May 1st, 1769. His father died while he was yet young, 
and the care of his education devolved on his elder 
brother, the Earl of Mornington (afterwards Marquis of 
Wellesley), who executed his charge with more than 
parental affection. After a short course of instruction 
at Eton, Arthur, who had manifested an early passion 
for the army, was sent to the military academy of An- 
giers, then superintended by the celebrated Pignerol. 
At this school he displayed no indications of that supe- 



318 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

riority wliicli was subsequently to astonish Europe ; his 
reserve appears to have been mistaken for dulness, and 
his silence was attributed to want of information. Hav- 
ing obtained the conunission of ensign in March, 1787, 
the parUamentary infhience of his brother insured his 
ra})id promotion ; so early as April, 1793, he was ad- 
vanced to the rank of major in the 33d regiment of foot, 
and in the September of the same year he became a 
lieutenant-colonel. His regiment was at this time quar- 
tered in the south of Ireland, and the young colonel 
attracted much attention by the unusual strictness of 
discipline he maintained, and the incessant care he be- 
stowed on drills and parades. He had previously obtained 
a seat in the Irish parliament, for the borough of Trim; 
but did not distinguish himself as a legislator, and seemed 
to have a distaste for political alfairs. In 1794 he was 
invited to a more congenial service, his regiment having 
been ordered to join the unfortunate expedition sent out 
under the command of Earl Moira to besiege Ostend. 
On the failure of that enterprise, Colonel Wellesley 
covered the rear of the retreating army, and displayed 
such skill and activity as to win the warm acknowledg- 
ments of his superior officers. He returned to England 
in 1795, and was soon ordered to the West Indies, but 
unfavorable weather having driven back the transports, 
the destination of the regiment was changed, and it was 
sent to Bengal. As British India was at this period 
tranquil, the government had taken the opportunity of 
reducing the Dutch colonies, and had projected an at- 
tack on those of Spain. Colonel Wellesley and his 
regiment had reached Penang on their way to Manilla, 
when the troops were recalled in consequence of the 
sus])icions excited by the movements of Tippoo Sultan, 
and the menaced invasion of the Afghans. In the life 
of the Marquis of Wellesley we have aheady described 
the dangerous condition of India at this period ; we need 
therefoie only say, that when it was determined to 
declare war against Tippoo, Colonel WeHesley was in- 
trusted with the charge of assembling the troops in the 
Presidency of Madras. The care which he bestowed 
on their discipline, attracted the highest praise from 
General Harris when he came to take the command. 



WELLINGTON. 349 

In the campaign that ensued, Colonel Wellesley had 
several opportunities of displaying his skill and bravery ; 
to his judicious movements the success of the battle of 
Mallavelly must be mainly attributed, and his advice 
greatly influenced the operations against Seringapatam. 
It was necessary to dislodge the enemy from a thicket, 
called the Sultaun-pettahtope, and the conduct of the 
affair was intrusted to Colonel Wellesley. He made 
the attack after sunset, but his advanced line was re- 
ceived with such a murderous fire of guns and rockets, 
that it broke and fled. In the confusion and darkness 
the colonel was separated from his men, and did not re- 
join them until the following morning. He renewed 
the attack by daylight, and was successful. 

After the storming of Seringapatam the command of 
the fort was given to Colonel Wellesley, whose first care 
was to suppress the disorders in which the victorious 
soldiers wei'e indulging. Measures of stern severity 
wei'e employed to check outi'age and plunder ; they had 
the efl'ect of restoring tranquillity, and in a few days such 
confidence was established, that the markets of Sering- 
apatam were never more regularly supplied. From the 
administration of Mysore, Colonel Wellesley Avas sum- 
moned to take command of an expedition against Bata- 
via, but the government of Madras, feehng sensibly the 
importance of his services, requested him to decline this 
lucrative offbr, and retain his command in Mysore. He 
consented to make this sacrifice of piivate interest to the 
public service ; and British India had reason to be grate- 
ful for his determination. 

Among Tippoo's prisoners liberated after the capture 
of Seringapatam, was a notorious free-booter, named 
Dhoondiah Waugh. The first use this robber made of 
his liberty was to collect the remains of Tippoo's army. 
With these and other marauders, amounting to twenty 
thousand men, he commenced a fearful course of plun- 
der and rapine, assuming the proud title of " King of 
the World." Colonel Wellesley marched against this 
daring chief with such activity, that on the 1st of Au- 
gust, 1800, he surprised his camp, destroyed his baggage, 
and drove about five thousand of his followers into the 
river Malpoorba, where they were drowned. The flight 
G G 



350 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

and pursuit of Dhoondiah attracted the attention of all 
India, but the marauder could not cope with the vigi- 
lance and energy of his conqueror ; lie was overtaken at 
Conahgull, attacked with unexpected promptitude, de- 
feated and slain. His camp became the prey of the 
victors. 

Lord Wellesley having resolved to send an armament 
to Egypt, appointed his brother to the command of the 
military force, but was aftei-ward reluctantly induced 
to transfer the charge to Sir David Baird. Colonel, or 
rather as he now became, General Wellesley, resumed 
his command in Mysore, with a discretionary power 
over the military and political affairs of the Deccan and 
the Mahratta states. Scindiah, Holkar, and the Pesh- 
wah, divided between them the strength of the Mah- 
ratta powers ; they were all hostile to the English, but 
were equally jealous of each other. Scindiah, how- 
ever, having taken up a menacing position, south of the 
Nerbudda, was the first object of attention, and General 
Wellesley, having vainly tiied to induce him to remove, 
was compelled to employ force. After capturing the 
strong fort of Ahmednuggur, the general commenced a 
harassing campaign of marches and countermarches in 
a country which was almost destitute of supphes. His 
great object was to force the enemy to a battle, but the 
difficulty of procuring intelligence was so gi-eat that he 
could not discover where the Mahrattas were posted. 
Having sent Colonel Stephenson by one road, he took 
another himself, and was thus unexpectedly brought 
into the presence of the whole Mahratta army, with 
only a portion of his own forces. The hostile ti'oops 
were posted near the village of Assaye, on a small pe- 
ninsula, formed by the rivers Kaitna and Jouah ; in this 
position they could not avail themselves of their vast 
superiority of numbers to outflank the British, and of 
this favorable circumstance General Wellesley resolved 
to take immediate advantage. The battle was one of 
the most desperate ever fought in India; it lasted from 
noon to night, and was of doubtful issue almost to the 
very close ; but, finally, the skilful dispositions of the 
English general, and the unshaken firmness of his fol- 
lowers, prevailed ; Scindiah fled, abandoning his artilleiy 



WELLINGTON. 351 

and baggage, but the victors lost in killed and wounded 
nearly one-third of their small but gallant army. 

The results of the battle of Assaye would have been 
decisive, had the Nizam, whose territories it was the 
object of the general to protect, faithfully adhered to his 
engagements ; but, through his fickleness or treachery, 
the opportunity of terminating the war by a single blow 
was lost. General Wellesley, however, covered the 
siege of Aseerghur, and protected the English aUies. 
At length, when a favorable opportunity offered, he 
pushed forward to the frontiers of Berar, the rajah of 
which was the chief support of Scindiah. The English 
overtook the enemy on the plains of Argaum, and, 
though it was late in the evening, immediately com- 
menced the attack. Again the skilful tactics of General 
Wellesley were found to be more than a compensation 
for his great disparity of forces ; the united armies of 
Scindiah and the rajah were completely routed, and at 
this time with but trifling loss to the conqueroi^s. The 
capture of Garvilghur, one of the strongest hill-forts in 
India, soon followed, and the Rajah of Berar was so 
disheartened that he solicited terms of peace. Scindiah, 
left without an ally, was also forced to submission, and 
received more favorable terms than he merited or ex- 
pected. Holkar, who had taken no part in the war, 
assumed a menacing attitude at its conclusion ; but, hav- 
ing been severely defeated by General Lake, he was 
forced to abandon his hostile designs, and all danger 
from the Mahratta power seemed to be at an end. 
General Wellesley, who had long been weary of India, 
took advantage of the restored tranquillity to solicit his 
recall. His services were rewarded by the thanks of 
the House of Lords, while the king conferred on him a 
knighthood, and the Order of the Bath. He quitted 
India in March, 1805, and reached England in the fol- 
lowing September. 

Sir Arthur Wellesley had not been long at home, 
when he was sent on an abortive expedition to Hanover, 
under the command of Lord Cathcart. After his re- 
tm-n, he was elected a member of the English Parlia- 
ment, and was soon after united in marriage to Miss 
Packenham, the daughter of Lord Longford. In April, 



352 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

1807, he was appointed secretary for Ireland; but was 
soon called from the duties of his office to take a part in 
the expedition destined to act against Copenhagen. His 
services on this occasion were not very marked, though 
his defeat of the Danes at Kioge accelerated the sur- 
render of the Danish fleet and naval stores, which it 
was the object of the expedition to procure. On return- 
ing to resume his duties as secretary, he received the 
thanks of the House of Commons for the zeal, intrepid- 
ity, and energy which he had displayed. 

In the spring of 1808, he was summoned to lead an 
expedition to a land which subsequently became the 
theatre of his greatest glories. An armament was pre- 
pared at Cork, to support the resistance to Napoleon, 
which had commenced in Spain and Portugal; Sir Ar- 
thur Wellesley was appointed to the command ; and as 
the Spaniards declined his aid, he resolved to effect a 
landing in the north of Portugal. After some consulta- 
tion, it was resolved that the disembarkation should be 
effected at the mouth of the Mondego river. It was 
happily accomplished ; but the perplexities of the gen- 
eral rapidly inci'eased from the moment he reached the 
shore. He had only twelve thousand men, few of whom 
had ever been under fire ; his cavalry was insufficient 
for the services required ; his commissariat was badly 
supplied, and his Portuguese allies had no confidence in 
him or in themselves. Junot, the French commander 
in Portugal, sent a division under Delaborde, to keep 
Wellesley in check, and ordered Loison to march by a 
different route, with the intention of uniting the two di- 
visions at Leyria. But the promptitude of the English 
disconcerted these arrangements. Delaborde was at- 
tacked on the 16th of August in his strong position at 
Rolica. After a smart contest of two hours, the French 
were defeated ; but they retreated in good order, and 
Delaborde eflfected a junction with Loison at Torres 
Vedras. Having been reinforced by two brigades. Sir 
Arthur Wellesley was about to follow up his success by 
turning the French position, and thus compelling the 
enemy either to fight at a disadvantage or to abandon 
Lisbon; but he was superseded at this crisis by Sir 
Hariy Burrard, a general worn out by age and infirmi- 



WELLINGTON. 353 

ties. Burrard refused to hazard a battle until the rein- 
forcements he expected had arrived. The French, 
however, were resolved to bring the matter to a more 
speedy issue, and on the morning of the 21st of August 
they assailed the English position at Vimiero, with the 
determination that announced a sanguinary struggle. 
The principal attack was made upon the British left 
and centre ; but it was repulsed with great bravery, 
and the fortune of the day would then have been de- 
cided but for Wellesley's want of cavalry. Colonel 
Taylor, with the few horse under his command, charged 
the broken bands, and scattered them with great execu- 
tion ; but he was in turn assailed by overwhelming 
squadrons, and his little band retreated, having lost their 
brave commander and half of their own number. This 
enabled the French to renew the engagement ; but they 
were repulsed more decisively than before ; their bri- 
gades were separated from each other; General Hill 
was master of the road to Torres Vedras, and a general 
movement in advance must have completed Junot's 
ruin ; but at this moment Sir Harry Burrard took the 
management of affairs into his own hands, and ordered 
all further operations to be suspended. The French 
officers, much to their astonishment, were allowed to 
rally their men, and they made good their retreat to the 
strong position of Ton-es Vedras. On the following 
day, Sir Harry Burrard was superseded by Sir Hew 
Dalrymple, and he concluded a convention with Junot, 
by which the French agreed to evacuate Portugal, but 
were permitted to retain all their plunder. 

Great indignation was felt in England when the intel- 
ligence of this convention arrived ; but no part of it fell 
on Sir Arthur Wellesley, who received the thanks of 
both houses of Parliament for his conduct at Vimiero. 
The affairs of the Peninsula fast assumed a disastrous 
aspect ; the brave but unfortunate Sir John Moore had 
fallen at Corunna, in achieving a victory which only se- 
cured for his soldiers a safe retreat ; the Spaniards had 
everywhere been defeated, and the French, under Mar- 
shal Soult, had again invaded Portugal, and were in pos- 
session of Oporto. Such was the condition of affairs 
when Sir Arthur Wellesley was sent out to take the com- 
23 G G 2 



354 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

mand. His landing at Lisbon diffused joy throughout 
Portugal; he remained some days in the capital, to 
make suitable arrangements for the commissariat, so as 
to insure a regular supply of food and pay to theti'oops, 
and then advanced toward the Douro. The passage of 
this broad and deep river, when the opposite bank was 
guarded by ten thousand veterans, presented a formida- 
ble obstacle ; but Sir Arthur Wellesley, having collected 
a few boats, pushed a detachment across, which seized 
an unfinished building, and held possession of this post, 
in spite of the most desperate assaults, until other di- 
visions came over to their assistance. In the mean 
time, General Sherbrooke, who had crossed the river at 
the feriy near Oporto, led his }nen through the streets 
of the city, and attacked the French in the rear, while 
General Murray assailed their left flank. The enemy, 
thus pressed on all sides, fled in confusion, and, had the 
English been in a condition to continue the pursuit, the 
French army would have been entirely destroyed. 
Soult was now compelled to evacuate Portugal, and he 
conducted his reti'eat with such admirable skill as to 
yield no advantage to his pursuers. Sir Arthur Welles- 
ley did not immediately follow him into Spain ; he was 
in want of money and supplies, which had not yet ar- 
rived from England, and the ungrateful Portuguese 
refused to lend him any assistance. Even when the 
expected ti'easure reached Lisbon, it was found inade- 
quate ; but as the Spanish authorities pressed eagerly 
for an advance, Sir Arthur Wellesley crossed the fron- 
tier, hoping to profit by the promised cooperation of the 
Spanish general Cuesta. But the Spaniards were too 
obstinate and too bigoted to join cordially with the allies 
whose aid they had invited ; neither carts nor mules 
could be procured for the service of the army, provis- 
ions were insufliciently supplied, and Cuesta thwarted 
every plan which Sir Arthur Wellesley proposed. Un- 
der these disadvantageous circumstances, the English 
advanced to Talavera, exposed to imminent danger of 
being suirounded, as the Spaniards kept them ignorant 
of the movements of the French. On the evening of 
the 27th of July, 1809, Marshal Victor made a fierce 
attack on the left of the British lines, which was repulsed 



WELLINGTON. 355 

after some hard fighting. The attempt was renewed 
on the morning of the 28th, with similar results ; and 
then Joseph Bonaparte, the pretender to the crown of 
Spain, resolved to hazard a general engagement. In 
numbers of men and guns the armies of the allies and 
the French were nearly equal ; but the Spaniards, un- 
der Cuesta, were worse than useless, and Sir Arthur 
Wellesley could only rely on twenty thousand men to 
oppose fifty thousand of the enemy. Few battles have 
been more fiercely contested ; victory more than once 
seemed likely to be decided in favor of the French, but 
they were finally repulsed at all points, leaving behind 
them a large number of prisoners and seventeen pieces 
of artillery. A dreadful accident closed this eventful 
day ; the long dry grass on the field of battle took fire, 
and a volume of flame spreading rapidly, inclosed and 
consumed many of the wounded whom there had not 
been time to remove. 

Badly as the Spaniards had behaved in the battle, 
their subsequent conduct was much worse. They with- 
held food from the English ti'oops, though they had 
plenty of grain in their stores ; and after Cuesta had 
agreed to protect the wounded, while Wellesley ad- 
vanced against Soult, he at once abandoned them to the 
enemy. The advance of the Enghsh was the result of 
false information respecting Soult's strength ; his forces 
were more than double those advancing against him, 
and the inexplicable retreat of Cuesta exposed the Eng- 
lish to be attacked by a second army under King Joseph 
and Marshal Victor in the rear. Fortunately some in- 
tercepted letters revealed to Sir Arthur the peril of his 
position ; it required all his skill to extricate himself 
from such hazards, especially as the intractable Span- 
iards at this crisis either refused assistance or proved 
faithless lo their promises. At length, worn out, he 
retired to the frontiers of Portugal ; this retrograde move- 
ment exposed him to much obloquy, but the British 
government, justly appreciating his services, raised him 
to the peerage by the title of Lord Wellington. 

Napoleon having conquered the Austrians, was able 
to send immense armies into Spain ; he entrusted the 
command to Massena, with orders " to drive the Eng- 



356 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

lish into the sea." Wellington had secretly formed his 
own plan of a defensive campaign, and from this he 
could not be induced to depart by the impatience of 
friends or the insults of enemies. The unexpected fall 
of Almeida compelled the English to continue their re- 
treat, and Massena followed them, confident that he 
would drive them to their ships. But on the 27th of 
September they halted on the ridge of Busaco, and in- 
flicted on the French a defeat so severe as effectually 
to quell the ardor of their advance, and the reti'eat was 
then leisurely continued to the memorable lines of Tor- 
res Vedras. 

Great was the surprise and disappointment of Massena 
when he saw the English, instead of retreating to their 
ships, occupying a position so strong by nature and so 
improved by art as to defy every assailant. Wellington, 
having free communications with the sea, was able to 
supply his troops abundantly, while the French, re- 
moved to a gi-eat distance from their magazines, in a 
hostile and wasted country, suffered the severest dis- 
tress. At length, Massena, despairing of an attack on 
the English lines, fell back on Santarem and fortified 
himself in turn. The winter of 1810 was passed in com- 
parative inactivity ; a faction hostile to the English had 
been formed in Lisbon, and its vexatious intrigues gave 
Wellington more trouble than the abortive efforts of the 
French armies. In Spain the affairs of the allies con- 
tinued to wear a gloomy aspect ; General Graham (after- 
ward Lord Lynedoch) won a brilliant victory at Barosa, 
but the folly and obstinacy of the Spaniards rendered it 
fruitless. Even this success was more than counter- 
balanced by the loss of the sti'ong fortress of Badajoz, 
which its governor, either through cowardice or treach- 
ery, surrendered to Soult at the very moment that the 
English were hastening to its relief. This, indeed, was 
the great crisis of the war. In England the further de- 
fence of the Peninsula was deemed hopeless ; the oppo- 
sition in Parliament urged that the troops should be 
brought home; the ministers seemed to hesitate, and 
Wellington alone appeared to maintain unshaken confi- 
dence. As he had foreseen, Massena's fine army was 
gradually mouldering away under the combined effects 



WELLINGTON. 357 

of famine, of the weather, and of a system of partisan 
warfare in which success brought no advantage. Mas- 
sena, however, held his ground until the 5th of March, 
1811, when he commenced his reti-eat, and Wellington 
immediately advanced in pursuit. The whole country 
afforded the retreating army a variety of advantageous 
positions to halt and check the pursuers. Of these Ney 
and Massena frequently availed themselves, and several 
smart actions were fought, all of which terminated to 
the disadvantage of the French. Massena vented his 
indignation in the most barbarous atrocities. Every 
town and village through which his army passed, was 
burned to the ground, and the unfortunate peasants 
were subjected to the most cruel outrages. At length, 
early in April, Massena crossed the frontier into Spain, 
and Portugal was delivered from the presence of an 
enemy. To Wellington alone belongs the merit of this 
triumph, which was in fact accomplished in spite of his 
allies rather than with their cooperation. 

Wellington having blockaded Almeida, was making 
preparations for the siege of Badajoz, when Massena 
suddenly resumed the offensive, and assailed the British 
position at Fuentes de Onoro, a place which this battle 
rendered worthy of its name, which signifies " Foun- 
tains of Honor." The combat spread over three days, 
but the decisive struggle took place on the 5th of May, 
when the English, though inferior in numbers and dis- 
advantageously posted, drove back their assailants in 
great confusion, and Almeida, which they had vainly 
attempted to relieve, was evacuated by its garrison. 
Marmont, who succeeded Massena, led his disheartened 
forces to Salamanca, and put them into cantonments. 
In the mean time. Marshal Beresford had commenced 
the siege of Badajoz ; Soult rapidly advanced to its re- 
lief, and Beresford, abandoning the siege, resolved to 
fight a pitched battle. At nine o'clock on the morning 
of the 15th of May, the British position at Albuera was 
attacked with gi-eat impetuosity, and defended with ob- 
stinate valor. Rarely has there been so sanguinary a 
struggle ; out of six thousand British troops only fifteen 
hundred remained unwounded ; but victory was decided 
in their favor, and the overthrow of Soult would have 



358 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

been complete but for the characteristic slowness and 
obstinacy of the Spaniards. Wellington came up shortly 
after the battle, and the siege of Badajoz was resumed ; 
two attempts, however, to take the place by storm 
having failed, Wellington, during the rest of the cam- 
paign, limited his operations to securing the safety of 
Portugal. 

The winter, however, was not spent inactively. 
Wellington in silence and secrecy made preparations 
for the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo, and before the French 
could suspect his intentions invested the place on the 
8th of January, 1812. On the 19th it was stormed, but 
the loss on the part of the British was veiy heavy. 
Marmont, who was advancing to raise the siege, ex- 
pressed the greatest astonishment at its early fall ; but 
a still more unpleasant sui-prise was the storming of 
Badajoz, after a sharp siege, on the night of the 6th of 
April. This was one of the most sanguinary events in 
the war ; the loss of the allies amounted to seventy-two 
officers, and nine hundred and sixty-three men killed, 
and three hundred and six officers and three thousand 
four hundred and eighty men wounded. Having pro- 
vided for the security of these important conquests, 
Wellington advanced into Spain, and on the 21st of July 
came into presence of Marmont's army in the neighbor- 
hood of Salamanca. Some time was spent in various 
evolutions, by which each general sought to gain some 
advantage over his opponent, but in the afternoon of 
the 22d, Marmont extended his left for the purpose of 
outflanking the British, and Wellington took advantage 
of this eiTor to force him to an engagement. His lord- 
ship strengthened his right wing, and falling on Mar- 
mont's extended left, broke it by a brilliant charge, and 
drove it upon the front, which fell into confusion. 
Wherever the French attempted to make a stand they 
were charged by the bayonet, and driven from one 
height to another. Marmont, being severely wounded, 
gave the command to Bounet ; he too was wounded, 
but Clausel, who had come up with fresh troops, made 
a vigorous effort to retrieve the fortunes of the day. 
Nothing, however, could resist the impetuosity of the 
British ; the French were everywhere beaten, and 



WELLINGTON. 359 

night alone saved them from destruction. The pursuit 
was renewed on the following morning, and many 
prisoners were taken. Eight days after the battle, 
Welhngton entered Valladolid, and on the 12th of Au- 
gust he gained possession of Madrid. 

But brilliant as his success had been, the situation of 
Lord Wellington in the Spanish capital was extremely 
critical. He had relied on the effect of a British expe- 
dition from Sicily to the east coast of Spain, to make a 
diversion in his favor ; the Spaniards would not afford 
him any assistance, but deranged his best plans by re- 
peated disobedience of orders. He was defeated in an 
attempt to take the castle of Burgos, and finding himself 
in danger of being enveloped by the French armies, he 
fell back on Ciudad Rqdrigo, and, at the close of the 
campaign, the British had resumed their old position on 
the frontiers of Portugal. 

At the opening of the campaign of 1813 the French 
were deprived of the services of Soult, who had been 
summoned to take part in the invasion of Russia. King 
Joseph, aided by Marshal Jourdan, had the principal 
command ; but as Joseph was no soldier, and was tho- 
roughly despised by the French officers, there was 
little unity or confidence in his councils. On the other 
hand, the provisional government of Spain had made 
Wellington commander-in-chief of their armies, and had 
taken some steps to improve the discipline and effect- 
iveness of their troops ; through the exertions of Mar- 
shal Beresford, the Portuguese had been so trained as 
to rank next to the British, and these during the winter 
had been so strengthened and renovated, that there was 
probably never an army better prepared to take the 
field. Active operations commenced in the middle of 
May. King Joseph retreated as the English advanced ; 
Madrid was once more recovered ; Burgos was aban- 
doned ; the position which the French tried to establish 
on the Ebro was turned ; and Joseph was at length 
compelled to make his last stand for a kingdom at Vit- 
toria. 

On the morning of the 21st of June, Wellington gave 
orders to commence the attack on the French hues. 
The complicated movements he had planned, were exe- 



360 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

cuted with such precision that there was not a failure 
in any single instance ; animated by the example of the 
English, the Portuguese and Spaniards behaved with 
unusual bravery, while the French fought with less 
courage than in any former battle. Driven from all 
their positions, the enemy began to retreat on the road 
to Bayonne, but being here intercepted by Sir Thomas 
Graham, they were obliged to turn off towards Pampe- 
luna, and the confusion consequent on this change of 
direction soon converted their retreat into a precipitate 
flight. Artillery, ammunition, and baggage were aban- 
doned ; King Joseph himself narrowly escaped captivity, 
but his carriage, papers, and the plunder he had col- 
lected in Spain, were taken. Few battles recorded in 
history have been more decisive. To the French cause 
in Spain it was fatal and irremediable. The spoils ob- 
tained by the conquerors were immense, and the money, 
wine, and other luxuries so engaged the soldiers as 
greatly to check the ardor of the pursuit. But the con- 
sequences of the battle of Vittoria were not confined to 
Spain ; it gave courage and confidence to the allied 
armies in Germany, and decided the Austi'ians to enter 
heartily into the coalition against Napoleon. 

The fortresses of Pampeluna and St. Sebastian were 
now the only possessions of the French in the north of 
Spain, though Suchet, with an army of 40,000 men, 
still held his ground in Catalonia. Wellington having 
made arrangements for the siege of these fortresses, ad- 
vanced with the main body of his army, to occupy the 
passes of the Pyrenees, from Roncesvalles, so celebrated 
in poetry and romance, to Irun, at the mouth of the 
Bidassoa. 

Soult was now sent by Napoleon to take the com- 
mand of the French armies, and endeavor to raise the 
siege of Pampeluna. A week of constant fighting in the 
passes of the Pyi-enees severely tested the skill of the 
generals and the valor of the armies. At length, Soult 
was driven back completely foiled, and nothing but the 
negligence of the Spaniards saved him from being forced 
to surrender at discretion. St. Sebastian having been 
taken by storm after a dreadful loss of life, and Pampe- 
luna having surrendered, Wellington pursued Soult be- 



WELLINGTON. 361 

yond the frontier, and an English army was thus placed 
on the soil of France. 

Early in 1814, Wellington, having with some difficulty 
obtained the requisite supplies from England, advanced 
against Soult, and compelled him to abandon the en- 
trenched camp which he had formed under the w^alls of 
Bayonne. On the 27th of February he encountered 
the French army at Orthez, and routed it completely. 
The consequences of this victory were the investment 
of Bayonne and the surrender of Bordeaux, the citizens 
of which, contrary to Wellington's wishes, proclaimed 
the restoration of the Bourbons. Soult continued to re- 
treat, and the English to advance, while the strict disci- 
pline maintained by Lord Wellington conciliated the 
French people, and led them to regard their invaders 
almost in the light of allies. It was, however, the 9th 
of April before the English could overtake their enemies 
at Toulouse, and on the following day a battle ensued 
equally sanguinary and useless. Its results were not 
very decisive, but Soult showed consciousness of defeat 
by abandoning this important town. The English had 
scarcely entered it, when intelligence was received of 
the abdication of Napoleon, and the consequent termina- 
tion of the war. Wellington, in consequence, proceeded 
to Paris, and thence accompanied the allied sovereigns 
to England. He had risen through all the grades of the 
peerage to a dukedom, and when he took his seat in the 
House of Lords his various patents were read in the 
same day. He received the thanks of both houses of 
Parliament, and the sum of 500,000^. was voted to pur- 
chase for him an estate, as a lasting token of the national 
gratitude. 

In January, 1815, the Duke of Welhngton was sent 
to represent the British government at the Congress of 
Vienna. The diplomatic labors of this body were sud- 
denly interrupted by the escape of Napoleon from Elba, 
and his immediate restoration to the throne of France. 
A plan of military operations was traced by the duke, 
and immediately adopted by the allied sovereigns ; a 
treaty was concluded, by which the great powers stipu- 
lated the proportion of forces that each should send 
against Napoleon, and agreed thnt no truce or treaty 
Hh 



362 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

should be made with the common enemy, except by 
general consent. Four days after the signature of the 
treaty, the duke proceeded to Belgium, where it was 
certain that hostilities would be commenced, and be- 
stowed ail his energies on collecting a force sufficient 
to meet that which Napoleon was known to have in 
preparation. 

Wellington had about 70,000 men, not more than 
half of whom were British, and his applications to the 
English government for troops and artillery had not 
met with the prompt attention necessary at such a 
crisis. He made Brussels his head-quarters, but as he 
had to watch a long line of frontier, covered with for- 
tresses, which enabled Napoleon to hide his move- 
ments until the moment for decisive action aiTived, it 
was necessary for the duke to have his forces widely 
spread, in order to discover by what line the French 
would advance. The Prussians under Blucher were 
the only portion of the allies that had yet come to fulfil 
their engagements ; Napoleon, therefore, resolved to 
anticipate them, and become the assailant. 

On the 15th of June, Napoleon crossed the Sambre, 
and advanced toward Charleroi. So soon as Wellington 
received positive information of this movement, he sent 
his orders to the different divisions, and then tranquilly 
went to a ball, which was given that night, in Brussels, 
by the Duchess of Richmond. This festivity was de- 
signed to conceal the near approach of the enemy, so as 
to prevent any alarm in the Belgian capital, and the 
artifice perfectly succeeded. 

About midnight the several officers were warned to 
go to their respective posts, and they slipped away one 
by one, without making any bustle or exciting any 
marked attention. On the morning of the 16th, the 
British troops were collecting at Quatre Bras, and 
blucher had concentrated the Prussians upon Sombref, 
occupying also the villages of St. Amand and Ligny. 
In the course of the morning Wellington had an inter- 
view with Blucher at Bry, and it was agreed that the 
two armies should maintain themselves in positions 
which would enable them to cooperate and mutually 
assist each other. Later in the day, Napoleon furiously 



WELLINGTON. 363 

attacked the Prussians at Ligny, while Ney, with 
equal fuiy, assailed the British position at Quatre Bras. 
Blucher, after a desperate resistance, was driven from 
his position, and forced to fall back on Wavre ; but 
Ney had completely failed at Quatre Bras, notwith- 
standing his gi-eat superiority of force. The retreat of 
the Prussians, howeve-r, rendered it necessary that the 
duke should make a corresponding movement in order 
to keep open his communications with Blucher, and on 
the 17th he retired leisurely to the position of Waterloo, 
which he had previously chosen as a favorable field of 
battle. 

The night of the 17th was dreary and tempestuous ; 
the English army bivouacked on the wet ground, but 
even this scanty rest and refreshment was requisite to 
prepare them for the toils of the coming day. Sunday, 
the 18th of June, dawned on the two armies preparing 
for battle. Their positions were nearly equal in 
strength , the English occupied a ridge of high ground 
in front of the village of Waterloo, having its left 
strengthened by the farm-house of La Haye Sainte, 
and the old chateau of Hougoumont to strengthen the 
right of its centre. At a distance of about fourteen 
hundred yards, runs the corresponding ridge of La Belle 
Alliance, of which the French took possession, and the 
space intervening between these two ridges was the 
theatre of this memorable conflict. 

Napoleon's object was to drive the English back on 
Brussels ; that of Wellington, to hold his ground until 
he would be joined by the Prussians, when he trusted 
to become the assailant in his turn. Napoleon believed 
that Grouchy would be able to prevent the Prussians 
from making any effective movement ; and Wellington, 
not aware of the dreadful roads through which they 
had to make their way, expected them to arrive in 
sufficient time to take an active share in the battle. 

The battle consisted of almost uniform repetitions of 
the same movements. Under the fire of his artillery, 
Napoleon sent heavy masses of infantry, and columns 
of brilliant cavalry, to force a passage through the 
British lines ; the English drove back the infantry, and, 
when charged by the cavalry, formed themselves into 



364 MODERN BRITISH PLUTARCH. 

hollow squares which could not be broken, and mowed 
down the charging squadrons with musketry. While 
thus disheartened, the French cavalry were charged 
by the heavy brigade of the English Life-guards, and 
were literally rode down, both horse and man. Several 
hundreds of French were forced headlong over a sort of 
quarry, or gi-avel-pit, where they rolled, a confused 
mass of men and horses, exposed to a fire which soon 
put an end to their struggles. The fight was thus 
maintained until seven o'clock in the evening, when the 
sound of cannon on his right announced to Napoleon 
that the Prussians were approaching to take a share in 
the combat. He had still in resei-ve about 15,000 of 
his Imperial Guards, and with these he resolved to 
make a desperate effort to decide the doubtful fortunes 
of the day. His guards advanced with gi-eat enthusiasm, 
but the English had not left the repeated repulses of 
the enemy unimproved ; the right wing had been 
brought round from a convex to a concave form, and its 
guns raked the French column as it debouched on the 
causeway. Though their ardor was obviously damped, 
the Imperial Guards steadily advanced until they at- 
tained the ridge, where our guards lay on the ground, 
to avoid the furious fire of the French artillery. When 
they approached, Wellington gave the decisive words, 
" Up, guards, and at them !" The British regiments 
had deployed into line four deep ; they gave three 
cheers, and rushed forward with the bayonet; but 
the Imperialists, aheady shattered by the terrible fire 
poured upon them in advance, broke, and fell into 
confusion. Wellington perceived the disorder of the 
retreat, and also the advance of the Prussians on the 
right flank of the enemy. He immediately commanded 
the British troops to form line, and assume the offen- 
sive. They formed four deep, and, supported by their 
cavalry and artillery, rushed down the slopes, and up 
the corresponding bank, driving before them the flying 
French, whose confusion became each moment more 
irretrievable. Blucher and Wellington met at a farm- 
house near La Belle Alliance, and the pursuit of the 
broken enemy was entrusted to the Prussians. They 
continued the chase by moonlight; and the French 



WELLINGTON. 365 

army was so thoroughly broken and dispersed that it 
could never again be reunited. 

Having refieshed his exhausted troops, the Duke of 
Wellington advanced on Paris, where his approach put 
an end to the intrigues which were formed to prevent 
the restoration of Louis XVIII. He also interposed to 
save the Parisians from the vengeance which Blucher 
was disposed to exact ; but he did not interfere to prevent 
the execution of Ney and Labedoyere, — a circumstance 
which has exposed him to much unmerited censure ; 
for no grounds can be assigned which would have ren- 
dered such an interference justifiable, and much less 
any that make the duke's neutrality worthy of condem- 
nation. 

With the end of the war the duke's military career 
terminated ; but he has since been called to serve his 
country as a statesman, and has held the highest place 
in the councils of the realm. While, however, he is 
happily spared to benefit that empire by his wisdom 
which he had protected by his valor, it would not be 
expedient to enter on a review of his political life. His 
name is associated with some of the greatest legislative 
and social changes that this generation has witnessed, 
and some of them are yet too recent to be discussed 
with impartiality. 



THE END. 



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